


the rule of thumb don't apply anymore

by seeingrightly



Series: i haven't known you for a lifetime [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe, Bipolar Disorder, Character Study, Coming Out, Explicit Language, Families of Choice, Father-Son Relationship, Homophobic Language, Kid Fic, M/M, Slow Burn, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly/pseuds/seeingrightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mandy snorts, and Mickey considers throwing the football at her, but he would definitely miss. He tosses it back to Yevgeny, overhand but with little force and even less form. Yev charges the few feet to pick it up, giggling. He plants his feet and, as he tosses the ball with all of his might, he gets a look of determination on his face that screams Milkovich. It’s goddamn typical, really, because the ball soars way off to the side and clonks some random guy on the head.</p>
<p>Mandy makes a choked sound that’s part horror but mostly amusement as the guy yelps, glancing around as he strokes a hand over his stupidly orange hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this prompt](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/89053107240/imagine-that-person-a-of-your-otp-is-playing-a), but only the first bit. oops.
> 
> things: i have no personal experience with bipolarity; let me know if anything i wrote with regards to that or something else was offensive or upsetting, should be tagged, etc. i also don't know chicago at all, so please excuse my hand-waving. i spent hours on the site for the adler planetarium, oh my god. forgive me.
> 
> thanks to [melissa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/melissawright) and [alicia](beam-me-up-hottie.tumblr.com) for editing, encouraging, dealing, etc.
> 
> title from glan hansard's "trying to pull myself away."

Playing football at the park with Yev may not be Mickey’s best idea ever. For one, the ball is, like, half the size of his five-year-old son, although he doesn’t seem to mind that much. More importantly, Mickey’s football skills are limited, and Mandy keeps ribbing him about how he’s trying to Americanize his kid so that he doesn’t grow up to prefer fuckin’ vodka to beer or whatever, and while it might be kind of true, it’s also damn annoying.

Mandy’s lounging or sunbathing or whatever the fuck on top of a picnic table, occasionally yelling insults at Mickey and encouragements to Yevgeny. She’s even got the sleeves of her sweater rolled up like it’s not the middle of fuckin’ October. Yevgeny throws her a thumbs up every once in a while, when he actually manages to toss the ball remotely near Mickey, and she returns the thumbs up with a huge grin each time. Neither of them comment on the fact that he only throws it far enough when he uses both hands to hurl it underhand. He also hasn’t caught it a single time, but neither has Mickey, so whatever.

Yev lets out a little grunt as he lobs the ball into the air and it rolls to a stop nearish Mickey’s feet.

“That one was real close,” Mickey says as he leans over to pick up the football. “I’m gonna catch the next one.”

Mandy snorts, and Mickey considers throwing the football at her, but he would definitely miss. He tosses it back to Yevgeny, overhand but with little force and even less form. Yev charges the few feet to pick it up, giggling. He plants his feet and, as he tosses the ball with all of his might, he gets a look of determination on his face that screams Milkovich. It’s goddamn typical, really, because the ball soars way off to the side and clonks some random guy on the head.

Mandy makes a choked sound that’s part horror but mostly amusement as the guy yelps, glancing around as he strokes a hand over his stupidly orange hair. He’s sitting on the ground under a tree surrounded by books and a backpack. Lots of local college students spend time in this park, and he looks to be the right age, dressed casually and with earbuds tangling on his lap as he pulls them out and picks up the football with a bemused expression.

“Shit,” Mickey says, briefly concerned about the guy but mostly concerned about Yevgeny.

When Mickey glances back at Yev, he’s got his little hands over his face, either embarrassed or guilty, or maybe just upset. Mickey heads over to him as the guy stands up and does the same.

“Sorry about that,” Mickey says, a bit defensively. He can’t tell yet if this guy’s gonna be an asshole about his kid’s aim, so he might as well show that he won’t stand for it from the start.

The guy laughs, though, and holds out the football. When Yev doesn’t come out from behind his hands, he hands it to Mickey, who pokes at Yev’s arms with it until he grumbles a little and grabs it, annoyance overcoming his distress.

“Say sorry, kid,” Mickey says.

Yev doesn’t, but he doesn’t really talk to people much, so Mickey’s not surprised. He shrugs, and the guy laughs again.

“What’s your name, buddy?” he asks, smiling widely down at Yev. The kid shuffles a little, wrapping both arms around the football and pulling it to his chest. He glances up at Mickey out of the corner of his eye and bites his lip.

“His name’s Yevgeny,” Mickey says, placing his hand on top of the kid’s dark hair for a moment. “We mostly call him Yev.”

The guy raises his eyebrows a little, but it’s subtle enough that Yev won’t notice, which Mickey appreciates.

“Nice to meet you, Yev,” he says. “I’m Ian. Ian Gallagher,” he adds, glancing pointedly at Mickey, who rolls his eyes a little.

“Mickey Milkovich,” he says. “And this is Mandy,” he adds as his sister trudges over.

Mandy smiles at Ian briefly before glancing down at Yev.

“You gotta work on your aim, kid,” she says. “Maybe find a better coach than your dad, though, huh?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey says, even though he has no right to be offended.

“And maybe a smaller football,” Ian adds, shrugging when Mickey glares at him. “What? His hands are small. He can’t do the right hand placements or anything if he can barely hold it. Or when his coach doesn’t know the right hand placements.”

He smirks, and something about this guy shifts. His shoulders are broader, his jaw more defined, his eyes a little brighter. Suddenly he’s the smuggest motherfucker Mickey’s ever seen.

“Fuck you too, Mr. Football Expert,” Mickey says, feeling prickly all of a sudden. “What, you coach Little League or some shit?”

“Little League is baseball,” the guy says, and Mickey rolls his eyes again. “And I practice football with my little brothers all the time.”

“You play?” Mandy asks.

Mickey side-eyes her. It’s not her flirting voice, but it’s not far off, either.

“Nah,” Ian answers, grinning smugly again. “But I did used to play Little League.”

“That’s fuckin’ great,” Mickey says. “Maybe next time I come to the park and want to play some catch with my kid, you can tell me how I’m doing that wrong too.”

“Can we play catch next time, Daddy?” Yev asks.

Mickey glances down, surprised. Mandy snickers, and he elbows her in the side halfheartedly, but he’s distracted. Yev really doesn’t talk in front of strangers much, and Mickey isn’t sure if this is progress, or if it’s specific to this guy. Or maybe it’s the way he’s talking to someone kind of casually, without much real aggression behind it. Mickey doesn’t do that much either.

“If you want,” Mickey says.

Yev nods and smiles all big and Mickey smiles back in the way he only really does with his kid, forgetting for a second that it’s not just him and Yev here. He glances at Mandy for a second but she’s smiling dopily down at Yev too. She’s just as bad as he is, thankfully.

When he looks over at Ian, he’s not expecting the wide smile that’s directed his way. It throws Mickey off, and his shoulders come up a little, his eyebrows drawing together.

“What?” he asks gruffly. “No concerns about whether I got the right fuckin’ kinda mitt or anything?”

The motherfucker just laughs again, a stupid, delighted little sound, like Mickey’s agitation is charming or some shit.

Next to him, Mandy glances at her phone, and then huffs in annoyance.

“Hey, I gotta go,” she says. “My shift starts in a bit. I’ll bring home dinner.”

“I have a class soon,” Ian says. “Which way are you walking?”

Of course they’re headed in the same fucking direction. Of course. Mickey goes back to tossing the football with Yev as Ian packs up his backpack, pretending that he’s not self-conscious about his total lack of form now, or about the fact that they might talk about him as they walk. Or about the fact that they might not talk about him at all. He’s not sure which is more annoying.

Ian bends over to grab a textbook, and while Mickey is distracted for just a second, Yev’s best throw all day hits him on the side of the head.

-

Mickey hates going to work on Friday nights. It’s partly because he doesn’t really like being a bouncer, even though he’s good at it, and it’s partly because Svetlana and Mandy both usually have off. Besides, he hates his daytime job at the gas station too, and at least this one is suited to his limited skill set.

Mandy and Svetlana are sitting on the couch with Yev deciding what movie to download on the laptop while Mickey gets ready to leave.

“I don’t want to watching fucking Nemo again,” Mandy says and Mickey walks out into the living room to find his wallet and his keys, pulling on a jacket over his stupid black “SECURITY” polo.

“Is good movie,” Svetlana says defensively.

Yev, snuggled against Svetlana’s side and half asleep already, looks like he doesn’t care what they watch.

“Hey fuckface,” Mandy says to Mickey, “try not to be so loud when you come home in the middle of the night this time, okay?”

Mickey gives her the finger as he walks toward the door.

“Night, Daddy,” Yev calls sleepily.

“Night, Yev,” Mickey says. “Nobody wake me up in the morning.”

He glares at anyone who side-eyes his shirt on the train ride to the club. Tonight he’s probably going to be working outside, either checking IDs or just standing at one of the other doors. Checking IDs can get annoying sometimes, but he prefers dealing with people before they get inside and start drinking and dancing.

When he’s inside, Mickey gets hit on sometimes, too. Usually it’s drunk girls touching his arms and telling him he looks tough or whatever, and he has to brush them off awkwardly, but every once in a while it’s a guy, and Mickey has to tell them to fuck off. It’d be a lot easier if he could pick guys up at the club where he spends most of his fuckin’ nights, but instead, when he gets off sometimes, he’ll take the train to a different part of the city, to a different club, to find someone. He’ll find someone to fuck him in a dark alley in a part of the city he pretends he doesn’t know, the pads of his fingers digging into cold brick as he ignores the sounds being made by the guy behind him.

When Mickey gets to work, he heads into the back room, and the bartender and other security guard who are taking their break greet him, but more of routine rather than because they expect him to respond in kind. He grunts at them as he heads over the manager, a short and massively pregnant blonde woman named Kelci or some shit.

“You’re on the front door tonight,” the she says, looking amused when Mickey nods, relieved.

He doesn’t have a problem with anyone he works with, really, but he doesn’t talk to any of them if he can help it. The less they know about him, the better.

Mickey stands under the glaring lights in the doorway of the club, squinting between IDs and the people who hand them over, using the stance he used to use when he was collecting from people back home. When he shifts his weight he feels like there should be a bat in his hands. It’s when he feels the most like the person he was back before Svetlana and Yev. It’s easy to slip back into, and Mickey’s not sure how he feels about it.

A tall lumberjack-looking guy smirks when he hands his ID to Mickey. Mickey hands it back quickly, looking past the guy. After a couple of seconds the guy huffs and heads into the club, and Mickey lets himself turn a little to watch him. Maybe he’ll try to score someone who looks like that if he makes it to the other club later tonight.

He turns back to the line. A couple of people down, there’s a girl who looks a lot like Mandy used to look before they left home. Mandy’s mellowed out a bit, just like Mickey has, wears pants more often and heavy eyeliner a bit less. This girl has on clunky heels and her lips are pale and pressed close together. There’s an ugly purple bruise on her upper arm. She looks like she’s there alone. Mickey fumbles the ID of the guy standing in front of her.

When she gets to the front of the line, she glares at him as she hands over her ID.

“You got a fuckin’ problem?” she asks, her arms crossed over her tank top.

“What?” Mickey asks, holding out her ID.

“Stop staring at me,” she hisses, shoving past him and knocking her ID out of his hand.

She wobbles when she bends over to pick it up, but then she’s gone. Mickey is so focused on thinking about how Mandy is at home, probably snoring on the couch while Finding Nemo plays, that he nearly misses a blatantly fake ID handed to him by a kid who can’t be older than fifteen.

He’s glad when his break rolls around, heading through the dark of the club to the back room so he can take a piss and chug down some water. On his way back, he pauses when the strobe lights glint off of the bright hair of someone dancing off to his side. The guy’s hair is startlingly orange – but no, he looks nothing like the guy from the park the other day when he turns around.

Mickey shakes his head and keeps walking. Yeah, he’s definitely going to look for someone like that lumberjack guy later tonight.

-

It turns out that Mickey is worse at playing catch than he is at playing football. Yev loves his new mitt, though, and keeps punching his little fist to it and grinning, so it doesn’t really matter than neither of them have caught a single ball, or that Mickey’s shins are probably already covered in bruises, or that Mickey probably shouldn’t have spent money on more new sports equipment. The smaller ball means Yev has a lot more control over force, if nothing else. Mickey focuses very hard on throwing the ball lightly enough that it won’t hurt Yev, but also close enough to Yev that he might actually be able to catch it with his new mitt. It’s basically fuckin’ impossible.

“Hey, batter, batter, swing, batter, batter,” Mandy chants from her picnic table.

“No one’s even fuckin’ batting, Mandy. Shut the fuck up,” Mickey says.

He’s mostly annoyed because Mandy’s been texting more than she’s been paying attention to Yev, and he doesn’t even know who it is she’s texting. She lets out a triumphant squawk and puts down her phone, and Mickey’s glaring is interrupted when something smacks lightly but loudly against the side of his face.

“Yo, what the fuck?” he shouts, looking down to find a small, plastic-and-foam football at his feet. It’s bright red and blue, peeling back at the seams. Spider-Man is staring up at Mickey, yellow foam peeking out near his neck.

“What the fuck?” he asks again, looking up.

Ian is tossing his backpack onto the picnic table next to Mandy, smiling brightly at her.

“That’s Liam’s old football,” he says easily. “Well, it was Liam’s most recently. It wasn’t easy to find, ‘cause no one’s used it in a few years. You should probably say thank you.”

He’s doing that smug thing again, with the chin and the shoulders. Mickey squints.

“Why, ‘cause you carried something that weighs like a fuckin’ pound around in your backpack for a week? I don’t thank stalkers.”

“You don’t thank anyone,” Mandy says. “Besides, Ian knew we were here now.”

She waves her phone a bit and smirks. She even slides over so that Ian can sit next to her on top of the table instead of sitting on the bench like a normal person.

“That’s not very good manners,” Ian says.

“Milkoviches don’t really do manners,” Mickey replies.

Ian raises his eyebrows, amused, and the looks pointedly at Yev. The kid is punching his fist into his mitt again and looking up at Ian out of the corner of his eye, like he thinks he’s being sneaky. He’s biting his lip and shuffling from one foot to the other a little too. If Mickey were doing it, it’d look menacing. Mandy, too. Yev just looks like… a really cute, really shy kid. Who would probably say thank you if he ever opened his mouth.

“I guess they teach manners in school or some shit,” Mickey concedes.

“It’s news to us,” Mandy says. “Yev’s probably already learned more than we ever did, and he’s just in kindergarten. Which I’m pretty sure is mostly just naps and snacks.”

Yev makes an annoyed little face, like maybe he’ll go off again about how much math he’s learning to do with those stupid little yellow plastic bears they have to use as counters, but then he glances at Ian again and resumes his shuffling.

Mickey looks at Mandy and Ian sitting next to one another on top of the picnic table. He can’t tell what the deal is. They’re sitting close together, like they’ve definitely hung out since they met last week, but there doesn’t seem to be tension, either, anticipation or anything. It doesn’t seem like Mandy’s trying to fuck the dude, but Mandy doesn’t really hang out with dudes she’s not trying to fuck. It’s weird. But Mandy’s leaning against Ian’s arm, a smile on her face that Mickey doesn’t get to see directed at anyone other than Yev.

“Hey, kid,” Mickey says. “You wanna keep playing catch, or you wanna try out the football?”

Yev looks down at his mitt, then at the football, then back at his mitt. He sighs wearily, like an old man, before he pulls the mitt off.

“You don’t have to switch,” Mickey says, definitely not laughing at his kid’s despair.

Yev walks over to him and hands him the mitt before picking up the football, inspecting it closely. Okay then. Mickey tosses both mitts at the picnic table, where they thud against Ian and Mandy’s shins and then fall to the ground.

“Assface,” Mandy says.

“Douchebag,” Mickey replies easily. “Hey kid, you want Gallagher over there to show you the proper way to throw this shit?”

Ian sits up straighter in surprise but covers it quickly with a wide smile. Mandy looks way too amused, probably more by Mickey’s offer than Ian’s obvious excitement, which will bite him in the ass later, but whatever. If the dude’s gonna be around, for whatever fuckin’ reason, Yev should probably get used to him sooner rather than later.

Yevgeny has his blue eyes trained on Ian, squinting. He squeezes the football a little and chews on his lip for a second before looking up at Mickey. It’s a little creepy, how he stares people down while trying to figure them out. It bugged Mickey out a lot when Yev was younger, but Yev kept on drooling on him and farting on him and calling him dada no matter what he saw when he did it, so Mickey got over it.

Yev nods eventually. Mickey smiles at him and runs a hand over the kid’s hair quickly. It’s long, flopping down over his ears weirdly, and Svetlana keeps saying it needs to be cut, but Yev doesn’t want to, so fuck her.

Mickey steps back a bit as Ian comes over, but he kind of hovers. Yev is fine at school, with his classmates and teachers, but he and Mandy and Svetlana don’t exactly have a whole lot of people they interact with regularly, since they got out of their old neighborhood and into a just-barely-better part of the city. It’s easier for a lot of reasons, except for the way it’s probably fucking with Yev’s social development, or whatever. He’s a Milkovich so he’s probably doomed anyway, but still.

Ian crouches down next to Yev, far enough that he’s nearly sitting, so that he doesn’t crowd Yev at all by leaning over him. He takes the ball in his own hand first and shows Yev where his fingers go, before handing it to Yev and showing him what to do by pointing, rather than grabbing his fingers and moving them himself. Mickey’s not sure if it’s just because he doesn’t know the kid, or if it’s because Mickey’s practically up his ass still, or if it’s because he can tell that Yev’s not likely to be a fan of a stranger touching him.

He takes the ball back from Yev for each part of the demonstration, arm position and then movement, leg position and movement, and then how to put all the steps together into one fluid motion. His voice is steady and confident the whole time, not a baby voice, but friendly. Mickey doesn’t really listen to the words. He just watches Yev watch Ian. Yev doesn’t seem uncomfortable. Mickey’s sitting on the bench next to Mandy’s legs long before they get around to actually throwing the ball.

Mickey’s a little worried that the little foam ball means that the best NFL quarterback, or whoever’s in charge of throwing shit, wouldn’t have that much control over where it goes, but on Yev’s first try, he seems to get the form mostly right, and Ian catches it without compensating for the throw all the much. Mandy whoops loudly, throwing her arms up, and Mickey grins when Yevgeny looks over at them, bouncing with excitement.

“Great job, buddy!” Ian laughs.

Ian somehow manages to look like he’s using the proper technique while also throwing the ball gently and aimed right at Yev’s chest. It bounces out of his arms and he looks kind of put out as he picks it up.

“Let’s try again,” Ian says immediately, and Yev looks excited at the prospect of throwing it again.

Mandy kicks Mickey in the thigh.

“He seems okay, huh?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Mickey replies, without asking which one of them she means.

-

Halloween falls on a Friday, and Mickey, Svetlana, and Mandy all manage to get out of work during the afternoon to take Yev out. Svetlana doesn’t really get the holiday, and none of them will wear costumes, but they all help Yev with his. They buy a plastic Iron Man mask, and Mandy tapes a circle cut from yellow construction paper to the front of a red long-sleeved shirt. Svetlana thinks it’ll be too cold for Yev to wear his red cotton pajama pants outside, but Mickey’s more concerned that Yev doesn’t want to wear a sweater or a jacket over his costume. Mandy just wants to take pictures.

The kids are allowed to wear their costumes to school, so the plan is for the three of them to walk to the school, stop at houses on the way back, and then go around in their apartment building, in the hope that Yev is tired by the end of it.

They get to the school a couple of minutes before the kids are let out. There’s definitely more parents outside than there usually are. Svetlana, bundled up in a heavy sweater, elbows people out of the way to get closer to the doors of the building, and Mickey follows closely behind her, Mandy at his heels. He’s not sure what other parents think their deal is, the three of them, because they don’t really talk to other parents.

Svetlana waves Yevgeny down when he emerges from the building, wearing his mask but carrying his jacket, and he spots her pretty quickly, because she’s the tallest of the three of them with or without her spiky boots. Svetlana asks him something about being cold in Russian when he comes over, and he shakes his head, answering in Russian. After a second, he turns to Mickey.

“Do I have to wear my jacket?”

“Did your mom say you have to wear it?” Mickey asks, because she definitely did.

Yev sighs loudly and holds out his hands, and Mickey slips off Yev’s backpack and helps him into the jacket Yev is holding limply in his hands.

A little girl in a princess dress or some shit rubbernecks as her mom drags her past.

“I like your mask,” she says.

“Thanks,” Yev says. “Mama, can we go now?”

Mickey shoots the girl and her mom what he hopes is an apologetic smile. Yev has no problem interacting with anyone at school, because he’s used to them, but he also doesn’t seem to like anyone very much. It would worry Mickey more if he and Mandy weren’t him and Mandy, and Svetlana’s not the friendliest either.

“Okay,” Svetlana says, taking Yev’s hand.

Mickey loops Yev’s backpack over his shoulder and follows them back through the crowd.

“No pictures yet?” he asks Mandy.

“When it’s less crowded,” she replies, after a second adding, “Ian sent me a picture of his costume.”

“Firecrotch still dresses up for Halloween?” Mickey asks, ignoring the mom who glares at him. “I’m not surprised.”

“Who is this?” Svetlana asks, looking over her shoulder as they break out of the crowd. “Orange boy from park?”

Mickey wonders what Mandy told Svetlana about Ian. Usually he’s really glad that they girltalk or whatever and that he doesn’t have to deal, but sometimes it’s fuckin’ annoying. Mandy ignores both of them.

“His little brother wanted to be the Falcon or whatever,” she says, mostly to Yev, “so he’s Captain America.”

She holds up her phone, first to Yev, and then Svetlana, and then Mickey. Ian’s got on a Captain America t-shirt and a plastic mask like Yev’s, his wide smile the only part of his face that’s really visible. The picture is a mirror selfie. It’s dorky as shit.

“I bet Iron Man could kick Captain America’s ass, huh?” Mickey says, nudging Yev.

Yev gets distracted when they reach their first house, though. They realize pretty quickly that someone’s going to have to walk Yev up to each door, because he gets quiet, even with the promise of candy. Svetlana winds up doing it, with Mandy taking pictures on her phone every once in a while.

Yev is already pretty tired by the time they get back to their building, an hour or so later, and they’re all hungry, so they head straight to their own floor, where Yev knows most of their neighbors. He’s still quiet, though, even though he’s known most of them for most of his life. The only one of their neighbors he really opens up around is old Mrs. Jude a few doors down, because she brings them cookies sometimes and has a cat that she lets Yev play with.

She coos when she opens the door.

“Oh, my favorite neighbor!” she says. “Don’t you look charming?”

She looks like she has no idea what Yev’s costume is supposed to be, and it doesn’t help that his mask is in Mickey’s hand because his face got all sweaty after a while.

“Trick or treat!” Yev says, and it’s the first time all afternoon he’s said it without prompting.

“I have something special for you,” Mrs. Jude says with a wink, like she’s a grandma from some movie, and she reaches off to the side and grabs a Tupperware container of cookies.

“Thanks!” Yev says, clutching the container to his chest in a hug.

“No problem, dear,” she says. Glancing at the rest of them, she adds, “Have a nice night.”

Once the door is shut, Yev looks from Mandy to Mickey to Svetlana excitedly.

“Can I have a cookie now?” he asks, his candy-filled backpack forgotten entirely.

“Dinner first,” Svetlana says, pushing Yev towards their own front door. “We order Chinese tonight, I think.”

-

Mickey leans against the door to the apartment and sighs. This happens every damn Wednesday. Mandy’s still getting ready in the bathroom even though she knew they were supposed to leave five fuckin’ minutes ago, and Yev can’t find one of his sneakers. For some reason, it’s always the left one.

He and Mandy both always have Wednesday afternoons off. She only has class in the morning, and she works a diner shift later that night. Mickey has his shift at the gas station early on Wednesdays too, and Mandy always comes home with dinner right before he has to head to the club. Svetlana’s busy on Wednesdays, but she gets Yev all to herself on Thursdays.

Going to the park on Wednesdays only became a thing a couple of weeks before Ian started tagging long, once they got used to Mandy’s schedule for the semester.

Mandy pokes her head out of the bathroom. She looks pretty much the same as she did when she went into it, Mickey can’t see a fuckin’ difference, but whatever.

“He still looking?” she asks. “Do I have time to put my hair up?”

“Fuck you,” Mickey says. “You invite Firecrotch to crash our party again today?”

Mandy curls her lip before ducking back into the bathroom.

“Why do you give a shit?” she asks. She sounds kind of funny; she’s probably flipped upside-down so she can pull her hair up.

“I don’t,” Mickey says. “Yo, Yev, check under the bed again!”

“I did,” Yevgeny calls down the hallway. Mickey doesn’t know how Yev loses his shoes during the short period of time between school and going to the park, but it happens.

“Do it again,” Mickey replies. To Mandy, he says, “I didn’t know your type was alien-looking motherfuckers.”

“At least call him a leprechaun or something like a normal fucking person,” Mandy says, unbothered, which is kind of suspicious. She would have punched Mickey by now if there was anything to get defensive about. She comes out of the bathroom and gives Mickey a look.

“What?” he asks.

“You could at least help him look for the shoe, dickbag.”

It takes her, like, three seconds to find the thing, because she’s an asshole. When she reappears, she’s got her huge purse, stuffed with her uniform, slung over one shoulder, and Yev’s Hot Wheels backpack, now necessary for their sports equipment, over the other shoulder. Yev is standing on her toes, letting her walk him backwards. When they get close enough, Mickey grabs him around the waist and tosses him over his shoulder. Yev squeals but lets Mickey carry him that way until they’re down the stairs and outside the apartment building, and then he starts to squirm.

“Daddy,” he whines, drawing it out.

“What?” Mickey asks innocently.

Yev doesn’t really tolerate picked up and carried that much anymore, especially outside where other people might see him. Mickey’s started carrying Yev around under his arm or over his shoulder a lot, because Yev doesn’t mind as much when it’s just playing around, or when he can pretend that he doesn’t have a choice and Mickey has him trapped.

“Daddy, come on.”

“Come on what, kid?”

The park is a couple of blocks away, and they manage to get most of the way there before Mickey has to put Yev down. Mandy grabs one of Yev’s hands before Mickey can. He glares, and she smirks. Yev is fine with hand-holding outside because his teacher tells them crossing the street is dangerous or whatever. One time, though, Svetlana tried to hold Yev’s hand when Mickey was already holding his other one, and he threw a very ironic temper tantrum in the middle of a convenience store about how he wasn’t a baby anymore.

“Hey,” Mandy says, swinging Yev’s hand a little. “Ian’s coming again today. How’s that sound?”

Mandy’s doing that thing where she asks for approval but acts like she doesn’t care what the answer is, a disinterested expression on her face. Yev makes his thinking face, squinting and chewing on his lip. He rubs at his nose roughly with the back of his hand. After a while, he shrugs. It’s exactly what Svetlana does when she has an opinion but doesn’t want to share it yet. It’s fuckin’ annoying, but it’s not a bad sign.

Mandy relaxes, dropping her shoulders and swinging Yev’s hand again.

Ian’s waiting at Mandy’s picnic table when they get there, earbuds in and a notebook open in front of him. Mandy smacks the back of his head, making him jump, but he smiles dopily when he sees who it is.

“Hey,” he says, pulling out the earbuds and shoving his book into his backpack.

“What’s up, loser?” Mandy asks. “Guess you actually finished all your homework this time?”

“I did it while watching my brother last night,” Ian says, and when Mandy tosses the bags down onto the table he adds, “Cool backpack.”

He smiles down at Yev, and the fucker makes it sound genuine. Mickey uncrosses his arms, aware that he’s making his is-this-guy-for-real face. Yev’s making the exact same face, his eyebrows drawn together. Mandy gives Mickey a look over Ian’s shoulder, like she wouldn’t do the same thing if Ian wasn’t her new pet or whatever. Mickey clears his throat and puts a hand on Yev’s shoulder.

“What do you wanna do first, huh?” he asks.

Yev shuffles between them and climbs up onto the picnic bench, kneeling to grab his backpack. Ian absentmindedly puts out a hand and leaves it hovering near Yev’s back in case he loses his balance. Mickey knows he’s making the face again but he can’t really help it. Yev pulls the Spider-Man football out of the backpack and then looks over his shoulder at Ian, not saying anything.

Ian waits a second, and then smiles easily when Yev still doesn’t speak.

“You wanna practice what we did last time?”

Yev nods and clambers off the bench. Mickey plops down on the bench and glares at Mandy.

“Shut the fuck up,” she says. “If you were the one playing with him, you’d wind up with bruises and complain for the rest of the night about how tired you are because you’re an old man. And you’d only be, like, three feet closer to him than you are right now.”

Mickey crosses his arms. Ian laughs as Yevgeny throws the ball, mostly getting the form right and mostly aiming it at Ian. Yev shoots them a thumbs up, and they both send one back, even if it means Mickey has to sacrifice his scowl and his slumped posture.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to mention that you’re jealous?” Mandy asks, not sounding sorry. “Okay, how about this – think of it as free babysitting. And you get to breathe down the dude’s neck the whole time to make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Is that better?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey says.

Mandy smirks, which Mickey ignores.

After a couple more relatively successful tosses, Ian stops.

“Bud, your shoe’s untied,” Ian says. “Want me to get it?”

Mickey pauses halfway off the bench and waits for Yev to turn Ian down, or look at Mickey until Mickey does it for him. To his surprise, Yev sticks his foot out in front of him and lets Ian crouch down, putting Yev’s foot on his knee to steady it. Mickey sits back down, reluctantly impressed.

“No,” Yev says suddenly. “You have to do bunny ears.”

Mickey barely hears Ian’s chuckle over the sound of his own heartbeat. This is literally the fastest Yev has warmed up to a human being. Mandy punches him in the shoulder.

“What the fuck,” she hisses. “Maybe Ian really is a leprechaun or something.”

Mickey lets out a choked sound that might be a laugh.

The rest of the time they’re tossing the ball back and forth, Ian has a stupid smile on his face. He can tell this is a big deal, is probably proud of himself or some shit, but there’s no way he can know how much this has shaken Mickey, or even Mandy. She’s got her knee pressed against Mickey’s shoulder and hasn’t made another asshole comment. The way they’re both staring is probably getting creepy, but whatever.

Yev doesn’t talk again, but he looks like he might be considering it, and it freaks Mickey out. In a good way. Mostly good. He just doesn’t know what it is about this doofy asshole that’s prompted it.

Eventually, Mandy looks at her phone.

“Playdate’s over, kids,” she calls, hopping off of the table.

Ian chuckles and grabs the ball off the ground, heading over to Yev and sticking his hand out for a high five. Yev returns it after a second or two, and Ian sends Mickey and Mandy an amused look, like he’s in on some fuckin’ joke now.

Mandy picks up her bag and goes over to say bye to Yev as Ian comes to put the football back in Yev’s backpack.

“Hey,” he says to Mickey, suddenly serious.

Mickey squints.

“Look, Liam, my youngest brother, he didn’t talk a lot until he was, like, seven. To anyone. The past year or so he’s talked a bit more.”

Ian pauses, and then decides not to continue. Mickey’s not really sure what to say in response. He shoves his hands in his pockets. Ian looks uncomfortable.

“So you’re saying he’s not another motor-mouth star athlete?” Mickey asks eventually. “I was imagining a tiny version of you. Probably real annoying.”

Ian laughs, much louder than that comment deserves. Mandy glances over, surprised, and Mickey shoots her a what-the-fuck look that he doesn’t care if Ian sees.

“Sorry,” Ian says. “It’s just – Liam really, really doesn’t look like me.”

He laughs again, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” he repeats. “It’s kind of complicated. Liam definitely, definitely looks the least like me though. Or like anyone. Well, he kind of looks like Fiona and Carl.”

“How many of you are there?” Mickey asks, bemused.

“Six,” Ian says. “Wait, shit, no. Seven.”

“What the fuck?” Mickey asks.

Then he thinks about Molly, wherever the hell she is now. There’s no way the Gallaghers are as complicated as the Milkoviches, but shit does happen.

Ian looks amused, and like he wants to explain if he could just figure out where to start, but Mandy interrupts.

“We gotta go, shithead.”

“It’s nice to hear you call someone else that,” Mickey says, and he kinda fuckin’ means it.

Mandy flips him off with one hand and ruffles Yev’s hair with the other.

“Later, kid. Later, assface.”

Ian waves awkwardly even though he’s standing, like, two feet away from Mickey.

“See you,” he says, before turning to Yev. “See you later, bud!”

Yev waves back, and Ian grins before running after Mandy.

-

They kind of have a Yevgeny-focused system that works around everyone’s schedules. On weekends, Svetlana wakes up with Yev, because she has the closest thing to a regular schedule during the week, washing hair at a salon and learning how to cut and dye and whatever the fuck, and she likes to wake up at the same time every day. When Svetlana is busy or in the bathroom or out or whatever, Mandy is the weekend back-up, because those nights Mickey’s job as a bouncer keeps him out nearly ‘til the kid wakes up bright and fuckin’ early.

So Mickey’s not really happy when he’s woken up by a little hand patting him on the chest over and over.

“Daddy,” Yev says in what he thinks is a whisper.

Mickey doesn’t know why he’s whispering if he’s trying to wake Mickey up anyway, but whatever.

“Daddy, Mama is in the shower and Aunt Mandy is gone and I’m hungry.”

Mickey opens one eye. The clock says it’s 7am, and Mandy definitely didn’t mention planning to stay out all night when she said she was going to “hang out” with Ian the night before. Mickey sighs. He sits up and runs a hand over his face.

“You thinkin’ waffles?” he asks. “I’m thinkin’ waffles.”

“Don’t burn them this time,” Yev says sternly.

“No promises,” Mickey laughs.

He grabs a shirt off the floor and herds Yev out of his room and down the hallway. He raps on the bathroom door with a knuckle before entering to take a piss. Svetlana curses at him in Russian, but it sounds more annoyed than actually pissed. Mickey’s pretty sure he even understood exactly what she said. Yev is standing right outside the bathroom door when Mickey leaves, thumbing at his front teeth.

“What?” Mickey asks. “They forget to feed you last night?”

“No,” Yev says. “I think my tooth is loose.”

Mickey takes a chance and picks Yev up, settling him on his hip under the guise of taking a closer look at his teeth. When Yev pushes on one of his front teeth, it shifts, more than Mickey was expecting it to.

“Whoa,” he says.

“What? What’s it look like?” Yev asks around his finger.

“Kinda gross,” Mickey says, pulling Yev’s hand away. “Definitely loose.”

“Cool,” Yev says. “Waffles?”

Mickey heads into the kitchen and goes about putting the frozen waffles into the toaster one-handed. He’s gotten really good at doing shit with one hand in the past few years. He’s setting their little fold-out table when Mandy comes in. She throws her purse on the floor and collapses onto the couch. Her hair is matted, probably from dried sweat, and her eye make-up is smudged as hell.

“Where the fuck you been?” Mickey asks.

“Feed me,” she replies.

Svetlana steps out of the bathroom in her robe, a towel wrapped around her hair.

“Christ,” Mickey says. “You want some too?”

“Sure,” Svetlana says, heading past Mickey to start the coffee. When Mandy hears the machine turn on, she moans.

“You’re a goddess.”

“You look this good too if you actually sleep,” Svetlana replies easily, pulling out three mugs and a small plastic cup with a lid, before she moves to the fridge to pull out the orange juice.

“Speaking of sleep,” Mickey says, “I didn’t know you weren’t gonna be here in the morning.”

“Fuckin’ cry about it,” Mandy says. “The club Ian took me to was a lot wilder than I expected.”

“Ah, orange boy again,” Svetlana says as she pulls the waffles out of the toaster.

Mickey passes Yev his cup and brings his own mug over to the table. He sits Yev down and goes back for the two plates already loaded with waffles.

“Why can’t you assholes call him by his name?” Mandy asks, crawling off the couch.

“Firecrotch doesn’t strike me as a clubber,” Mickey says. “He seems too… varsity quarterback and starting pitcher.”

Mandy snorts into her coffee.

“He didn’t play sports in high school,” she says. “He was in ROTC, actually. And he used to spend a lot of time at clubs, but he doesn’t even really drink anymore. He just wanted to meet up with some old friends.”

She shrugs, and Mickey can’t tell if she doesn’t know more or isn’t willing to share it. Mickey pictures Ian in camo, with buzzed hair, standing at attention. It doesn’t really match his current relaxed posture, the t-shirts and hoodies and sneakers he wears. Then Mickey imagines Ian under strobe lights, his eyes glazed and his hair slicked back with sweat. It’s a jarring image too – the Ian he’s seen is subdued, easygoing, and both of those versions of Ian that Mandy mentioned so casually seem… intense, and really contradictory.

“You spend much time with orange boy,” Svetlana says, bringing over two more plates.

“He’s taking classes part-time too and we’re both on campus at the same time a lot,” Mandy says defensively. “I’ve run into him a bunch. What, I can’t have a fucking friend?”

“I like Ian,” Yev says with his mouth full.

Svetlana reprimands him in Russian, and Yev replies in Russian, with his mouth still full. Mandy smiles into her coffee as Yev drips syrup all over the table. 

-

Mickey feels like he should be surprised when he walks into a convenience store and Ian is leaning against a rack of Pringles near the front of the store, reading a magazine, but he’s kinda fuckin’ not. He’s just stopping in to grab some lunch on the way home from his shift at the gas station, which is pretty close to the college.

“The fuck are you supposed to be, Firecrotch? Security?” Mickey asks.

Ian glances up, his surprise quickly shifting into a wide smile.

“Hey,” he says, as though Mickey had greeted him like a normal person. “I’m just waiting for my sister. Debbie takes classes here too, and we grab lunch together when we’re both on campus. Mandy actually joined us yesterday!”

Mickey nods. Mandy had mentioned it in passing – said something about how Ian’s sister looked just like him, and never stopped talking either.

“I hear I pegged the wrong Gallagher as your mini-me, huh?” Mickey asks.

Ian laughs as closes and rolls up the magazine, tapping it against his palm a little as Mickey starts down an aisle, halfassedly browsing. Mickey tries to picture those past versions of Ian that Mandy had mentioned the other day. There are hints in the strength and set of his shoulders, in the easy arch of his neck as he laughs, that Ian’s relaxed-looking physicality is actually practiced, maybe relearned. Not too firm, not too loose. It’s exactly what normal should look like.

After Mickey left his neighborhood a few years ago, he’d had to change his body language. Back home, everything had been about putting on a show, being big, being mean, being straight. Being someone you wouldn’t fuck with even if you found out you had a reason to. It was about attraction a certain kind of attention on purpose so people wouldn’t notice what was going on when he was trying not to attract attention.

Here, though, where nobody really knows them, it’s better to slip under the radar, to move quietly. He’s figured out how to keep to the shadows but still look like someone you don’t want to cross. He didn’t realize how exhausting living that performance had been until he got to switch to a less extreme one.

Now that Mickey knows what to look for, Ian looks like someone who’s trying really, really hard to look normal. To most people, he probably manages.

“So anyway,” Ian says after a minute, “you, uh, come here often?”

He’s smirking, way too pleased with himself, when Mickey looks over. Ian’s just being a fuckin’ dork, there’s no need for Mickey to tense up, but he does a little anyway. He doesn’t think Ian notices, but he’s not sure.

“Fuck off,” he says, and it sounds casual enough. “I usually stop by here on my way home from work. What about you? Your sister late or some shit?”

“Nah,” Ian replies. “I’m early.”

“Hey, you find Mandy’s eyeliner or whatever the fuck yet?” Mickey asks as he chucks around some pre-packaged sandwiches, looking for the kind he usually gets. “She won’t shut the fuck up about how she knows she put it in your sweatshirt pocket so it’s definitely your fault that it’s gone.”

Ian lets out a sound that’s half amused and half annoyed.

“I don’t know where she expects me to find it. If it’s not in my pocket, it’s not in my pocket.”

“Well then buy her a new one, because it’s fuckin’ annoying.”

Ian huffs, and then looks down at his phone.

“Okay, now Debs is late,” he says. He looks over at Mickey and huffs again. “Little sisters, right?”

Mickey squints, unsure if Ian is trying to have some kind of moment with him.

“Yeah,” he agrees after a couple of seconds, hoping he doesn’t sound too suspicious.

He picks up his sandwich and then grabs a Gatorade before heading over the bored teen behind the counter. The girl rings him up without taking out her earbuds. Mickey looks back at Ian, who’s unrolling the magazine again, still looking kind of annoyed.

“Gallagher,” he says. “Mandy’s covering someone’s shift tomorrow so we won’t be at the park. We’re gonna go Friday instead, same time.”

“Oh,” Ian says, and then his face falls. “I actually have plans Friday.”

Mickey turns away to pick up his change and his bag, annoyed. Yev will be disappointed if Ian’s not there, but whatever. He can deal with Mickey’s shit football skills for one day.

“Maybe I can stop by the park on my way,” Ian says after a second. “My plans are nearby. I can drop off Mandy’s eyeliner.”

Mickey turns back to face him, which is a mistake, because Ian’s got this guilty expression on that makes him look like a kicked dog or some shit.

“Make sure you buy the right kind,” Mickey says.

Ian’s laughing when the door closes behind Mickey.

-

Mickey and Yev have been playing catch for a few minutes when Ian announces his presence by throwing a tube of eyeliner at Mandy, who yelps, startled.

“Jackass,” she says, inspecting it. “You know which brand I use?”

“I told my sister what colors the tube and logo were and she guessed,” Ian says. “I’ll have to tell Fiona she was right.”

Ian is dressed up, wearing an older-looking leather jacket with a v-neck and jeans and his hair gelled back. Mickey had guessed that Ian was close in age to him and Mandy, but he looks older like this, out of place, not at all like someone who’d kneel in the dirt and show a little kid how to hold a fuckin’ Spider-Man football. Mickey has a childish urge to mess up Ian’s hair and maybe knock him over so that his jeans get all dirty.

He shakes his head and turns back to Yev, who’s distracted. Yev makes a funny face and then sticks out his tongue, looking annoyed. He pulls off his mitt so he can pull at his tongue with both hands, like that’ll do anything useful.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mickey asks.

“Tastes funny,” Yev says.

“What does?” Mickey asks, bewildered.

Yev comes over to him, aggravated and maybe a little freaked out, so Mickey picks him up and settles him on his hip, and Yev doesn’t protest. Mickey pulls Yev’s bottom lip down with his thumb. One of his front teeth, the loose one, is twisted into a weird position and pink with blood. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for Yev to taste it. Mickey’s not sure what to do.

“What is it?” Ian asks over Mickey’s shoulder. “Oh, that tooth is ready to go.”

“I can see that,” Mickey says, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Ian seems unbothered.

“It’s your first one, right?” Ian asks Yev, who nods. “Okay, well, it’s probably easier to take it out now than let it fall out when you’re not expecting it. You can pull it out yourself if you think you can, or I can do it for you.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mickey says. “Fuckin’ excuse me?”

Ian shoots him an amused look, still standing close. He smells like cologne and something floral, probably soap.

“If you let it come out on its own, he could swallow it or something,” he says. “Which would be fine, but it might freak him out. Pulling it out now probably won’t even hurt because it’s so loose already. Do you have tissues?”

Ian directs the last part at Mandy, who digs into her purse for a tissue packet.

“Can you sit him down on the table?” Ian asks Mickey.

Mickey doesn’t really want to, but he does it, straddling the bench and keeping a hand on Yev’s back. Mandy crowds in on Yev’s other side, and Ian stands right in front of him.

“You want to try to do it yourself?” Ian asks.

After a second, Yev nods, and Ian hands him a tissue.

“Try twisting it in a circle,” Ian says.

Yev shoves his tissue-covered fingers into his mouth and immediately starts wiggling the tooth back and forth, hard.

“Ow,” he says, and Ian laughs.

“Okay, can I try now?”

Yev hands him the spitty, slightly bloody tissue, which Ian crumples up and puts down before grabbing another one. With one hand, he holds Yev steady, and with the other, he reaches in and turns his hand a bit, slowly. Yev’s eyebrows draw together for a few seconds, but then he makes a surprised sound as Ian pulls his hand away.

“See?” Ian says, holding out his palm so they can all look at the tooth.

“Shit,” Mandy says, sounding impressed.

Mickey rubs his hand up Yev’s back, breathing out harshly through his nose. Svetlana’s gonna be fuckin’ pissed she missed it. Ian moves the tooth to another tissue and folds it up until it’s a secure little square, which he hands to Mickey. Then he folds up another one and sticks it in Yev’s mouth.

“Bite down on that for a bit,” Ian says. “There’s only a little blood, but it doesn’t taste too great, right?”

Yev nods.

“You did a great job, buddy,” Ian says.

Mickey stares down at the tissue in his hand, unsure of what to do with it.

“Fiona has Debbie and Carl and Liam’s first teeth in little containers somewhere,” Ian says. “It’s a little creepy, but mostly I think it’s nice. They also got ice cream afterwards.”

He shoots Yev a look he probably thinks is sly, and Yev grins around the tissue in his mouth. There’s drool all over his chin.

“Hang on, I thought you had a date to get to,” Mandy says.

“He can wait,” Ian replies easily.

Mickey’s about to get stuck on that pronoun when Yev slides off the table and pulls the tissue out of his mouth, hastily wiping at the spit on his face with the back of his hand. He throws the tissue down and grabs Ian’s hand.

“Can we get ice cream, Daddy?” Yev asks, showing Mickey his new gap-toothed smile.

“Uh, sure,” Mickey says, feeling dazed.

He puts the tooth in his pocket.

-

Mickey is looking underneath Yev’s bed for the kid’s other sneaker when Mandy pops up behind him with her phone in her hand.

“So Ian’s night class was canceled,” she says, “and so was his sister’s. He wants to know if he can bring her to the park.”

“Did you ask Yev?”

“He stared at me for, like, thirty seconds and then shrugged. Weirdo,” she says fondly.

“Then it’s fine,” Mickey says. “The fuck do I care?”

“Oh right, I forgot that I’m speaking to Mickey Milkovich, People Person.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey says, getting up to look somewhere else.

He figures that he can deal with a smaller, girlier version of Ian no problem, and it probably won’t be that big an adjustment for Yev either, which is more important. Mickey winds up being pretty fuckin’ wrong, not about Yev, but about himself. Ian and Debbie together are… a lot.

She’s wearing a crop top that says “good vibes” inside a heart, underneath a big zip-up that she probably stole from either a boyfriend or one of her brothers, and a jacket layered over that. Debbie’s slumped against Ian’s shoulder where they sit on the picnic bench, glaring down at her phone.

“That dick from your history class still hasn’t texted you back?” Mandy asks when they get close enough.

“Was he the one we ran into at the campus gym the other day?” Ian asks.

“He’s cute!” Debbie says defensively.

“Yeah,” Ian says, “and old.”

“Okay, hypocrite,” Debbie says, before turning to Mickey, who already feels a little overwhelmed, and adding, “Hi.”

“Uh, hi,” Mickey says.

They both look to Yev, who’s glancing back and forth between Ian and Debbie and the stupidly wide smiles on their faces. Ian leans forward with his elbows on his knees so he’s more level with Yev.

“This is my little sister Debbie,” he says. “I bet she’ll play with us if we ask her nicely. Right, Debs?”

“Sure,” Debbie says, winking at Yev.

Mickey didn’t know that was a thing people did in real life, but now he can definitely picture Ian doing it. He kinda fuckin’ wishes he couldn’t.

After a beat, Yev nods. They stand in a triangle, with Debbie near the picnic table so she can talk to Mandy. Debbie’s form is decent, but she seems more focused on giving encouragements than actually making sure Yev catches the ball or throws it well. When she actually does catch it, she cheers.

“Great throw!” she says, throwing it halfassedly to Ian and then turning to Mandy. “I found the lipstick you let me borrow, by the way. It’s in my backpack.”

“Where was it?” Ian asks.

“In the microwave,” Debbie says. “Don’t ask me why. All that matters is that Carl hadn’t blown it up yet.”

“Is that somethin’ I should expect?” Mickey asks, throwing a suspicious look at Yev, who smiles at him.

“Nah,” Debbie says. “Carl’s just a pryo or something. And our Grammy used to blow things up all the time too, so it’s probably genetic.”

“You know us Gallaghers,” Ian says. “Blessed with great genetics.”

It’s supposed to sound like a joke, but there’s something off in his tone. Debbie makes a face, and Mandy changes the subject before Mickey can really wonder what the hell that was about.

“Debs, you break it off with that science nerd yet?”

“Why should I?” Debbie asks. “Things don’t look like they’re going anywhere with this other guy yet, and the science nerd helps me with my science homework. And ‘homework’ is only a cover, like, half of the time.”

Debbie stiffens, and she glances over and Ian, her eyes wide.

“Don’t tell Fiona,” she begs, and he smirks.

“Okay,” he says easily. “If you don’t Fiona or Lip about yesterday.”

“Ian, you can’t let Carl watch Liam all by himself!” Debbie has her hands on her hips and a disappointed expression on her face and looks more like a mom than a teenager for a moment.

Ian groans and runs a hand through his hair, forgetting the football at his feet. Yev fidgets, pulling at the bottom of his shirt as he watches them go back and forth.

“It was for five minutes, Debs, and it’s literally the only time I’ve ever done it, and I had to go next door to ask Vee an important question about medication side effects. Okay? Can we get over it?”

He raises his eyebrows and spread his arms out in front of him. Debbie cracks after a few more seconds.

“Ugh, whatever,” she says. “But don’t do it again!”

Ian smiles at her before picking the football up. It’s hard to tell if he makes those fuckin’ comically overdone faces on purpose, the kicked dog expression and the absurdly wide smile, or if he doesn’t even know how effective they are.

“What’s going on for dinner tonight?” Ian asks. “You think anyone remembers we both don’t have class tonight?”

Debbie laughs.

“Okay, let’s see. Fiona invited her new boyfriend over for dinner,” Debbie says, counting on her fingers. “I think Sammi and Chuck were planning on coming over. Maybe Sheila too, since she watched Liam today. Carl said he might be bringing his girlfriend. And you know Frank’s actually been around a lot lately.”

Mickey raises his eyebrows a little more with each name. When he turns to Mandy, she only looks slightly less startled than he feels.

“The fuck?” he mouths at her, and she shrugs.

“Let’s eat out tonight,” Ian says.

“Yeah, okay,” Debbie says.

“Hey Mandy, would you mind if we came and bothered you during your shift at the diner?” Ian asks. To Mickey, he adds, “You guys could come too.”

“You only want me for my employee discount,” Mandy says.

“Maybe,” Ian replies. “What do you think, Yev?”

Yev looks over at Mickey, squinting.

“Waffles?” he asks.

He and Mandy both snort at the same time.

“Maybe we should feed him something else every once in a while,” Mandy says in a stage whisper. When Yev pouts, she throws out her arms and says, “Just kidding! Waffles forever, right, kid?”

Yev nods as he comes over, and he even lets Mandy pick him up, placated by the promise of his favorite food. Ian tosses Mickey the football, and he puts it into Yev’s backpack before picking up that and Mandy’s bag. Mandy leads the way, talking about what type of waffles Yev wants today, because she can convince the old fucker who runs the kitchen to do pretty much anything she asks for.

It turns out Ian has been to the diner before, because he heads right to Mandy’s section. Mickey makes Yev climb into the booth before him, and Yev kneels on the seat, looking expectantly at his backpack. Mickey finds him the crayons so he can draw on the paper placemat.

After Mandy takes their orders, Mickey starts to feel uncomfortable. He figures he should probably actually make conversation, but that’s not really a thing he does. He rubs at the corner of his mouth with his thumb and decides to just go for it.

“So you commute too?” he asks Debbie, and both of them look a little surprised, and then they both smile at the same time in the same way, and Mickey kinda hates them.

“I do,” Debbie says. “But I’m a full-time student, not part-time. I’ll probably graduate before Ian does.”

“Hey, some of us have to work real jobs,” Ian says, teasing.

“Excuse me,” Debbie says huffily, and it only sounds partly put-on. “Debbie Daycare is harder work than any job you or Lip or Fiona have ever had.”

“It does not count as Debbie Daycare if it’s not more than four kids at a time and you actually know all of their names, Debs,” Ian says. “And all of the parents are actually paying you.”

“Kev and Vee don’t pay me!”

“Watching the twins doesn’t even count as babysitting. It’s like watching Liam.”

“Fine,” Debbie says. “But you try doing homework while watching two five-year-old girls who only like to watch WWE at top volume.”

“No thanks,” Ian says. “I’ve had to put them to bed before. They’re worse than Liam used to be about it.”

“It’s ‘cause Kev can’t say no to them,” Debbie says. “Which was cute for, like, the first two months that they could talk. Now it’s the worst.”

“Kevin and Veronica are our neighbors,” Ian says to Mickey.

“Okay,” Mickey says, and after a second, he asks, “What about everyone else you guys mentioned earlier?”

They both laugh.

“Okay,” Ian says. “So Frank is our dad. Sometimes he’s around and sometimes he’s not.”

He shrugs, and then doesn’t continue. He looks over at Debbie, who also shrugs.

“Sheila is, uh,” Debbie says, and then she pauses. “She kind of used to date Frank? She babysits Liam a lot, ‘cause she gets lonely. And she likes to make us food and stuff.”

“She’s weird, but nice,” Ian adds. “Sammi is our oldest sister, but we didn’t know about her ‘til a couple of years ago, and she didn’t know about us. And she has a kid who’s, like, thirteen, named Chuck. They come over sometimes, but it’s still kind of weird. Mostly they hang out with Frank.”

“Chuck is a good kid,” Debbie says. “Then there’s Fiona, who’s been in charge since Lip was born, basically. She usually has, like, a million jobs all at the same time. Lip is getting his Master’s in engineering and he lives and works on campus but he visits home a lot.”

“Then there’s us,” Ian says, smiling at Debbie. “And then it’s Carl, who’s somehow still in high school despite getting suspended for beating people up and breaking things all the time. Probably because Lip is one of the high school’s only success stories and they want him to say good things.”

“And then there’s Liam,” Debbie says, “who’s eight now and wants to be an astronaut when he grows up. He thinks aliens are really cool.”

Mickey blinks, and they both laugh.

“Yeah, there’s kind of a lot of us,” Ian says. “Mandy said your family is pretty big too though?”

Mickey stiffens. He hasn’t talked to any of his brothers in years, and manages not to think about it most of the time. As far as he’s concerned, his family is made up of the people who live squeezed into their shitty little apartment, and he thought Mandy felt the same way, but maybe not.

“Used to be,” Mickey says shortly.

He doesn’t look up because he doesn’t want to see the concerned looks Ian and Debbie are undoubtedly wearing. He’s saved by Mandy bringing over the food. Yev drops a crayon in Ian’s water in his scramble to move everything out of the way, and Ian and Debbie are distracted enough that Mickey can just focus on cutting Yev’s waffles.

When Mandy brings over Ian’s new water, she gives Mickey a questioning look, and he gives her a fuck-off look, and she rolls her eyes at him before walking away.

Later, at home, when he opens the usual doggie bag to give Yev his cookie, there’s a second cookie, along with a note that says, “You’re welcome, assface.”

-

Mickey always has Tuesday nights off from the club, so he usually falls asleep on the couch with Yev at, like, eight or some shit, laid out with the kid flopped across his stomach. Mandy usually wakes him up when she comes home from her shift with food, but this time, she’s not alone. Mickey grunts and rubs a hand over his face as he listens to Mandy and Ian whisper in the kitchen. Mandy pokes her head out when she hears him.

“Hey,” she says. “Is it cool if Ian stays on the couch tonight? He and his asshole brother are fighting or something.”

“Which one’s the asshole one?” Mickey asks, and then adds, “You gotta ask Svetlana.”

“Lip is the asshole one,” Ian says moodily. “Thinks he’s right about everything –”

He’s interrupted when Mandy knocks loudly on Svetlana’s door.

“Stop sexting your girlfriend or whatever and come out here,” Mandy says. “My friend needs to stay over tonight.”

Ian glances at Yev, impressed.

“He the type who can sleep through anything?”

Mickey glances down at Yev, who’s drooling steadily onto Mickey’s shirt. The kid spent the first couple of months of his life living in the Milkovich house and had learned to deal with volume pretty quickly.

Svetlana pulls open her door and glares at Mandy, and then stares over her shoulder at Ian for a few seconds.

“Nika is not girlfriend yet,” she says to Mandy. “Yevgeny like orange boy, yes?”

“Yes, Svetlana, Jesus,” Mandy says.

Ian has his eyebrows raised, like he’s not sure if he should be scared of Svetlana or pleased at the confirmation that Yev likes him. Svetlana turns and gives Mickey a look.

“Jesus, what? Yes, Yev like orange boy. Fuckin’ relax,” he says, like he wouldn’t be twice as bad if Svetlana or Mandy brought over someone he didn’t know.

Svetlana rolls her eyes and mutters in Russian. The part that Mickey understands is pretty insulting, but he ignores her. He wraps his arms around Yev and shifts carefully into a sitting position without dislodging him, resettling him against his chest. Yev is snoring a little and breathing wetly on his neck. Mickey runs his hand over Yev’s hair.

Mandy and Ian sit down on the couch, and Svetlana goes over to the ratty armchair. Mickey has no idea what Mandy’s told Ian about Svetlana, other than that she’s Yev’s mom, but he sure as hell can tell Ian’s gonna start making polite, invasive conversation before he even opens his damn mouth.

“Uh, hi,” he says, almost sounding nervous, like he knows his usual charm isn’t going to work on her. “I’m Ian. It’s nice to meet you. Your kid’s really great.”

Svetlana nods, looking amused, and Ian fidgets, like he can’t handle more than a few seconds of quiet.

“So you’re from Russia?” he asks, and Svetlana nods again.

“I live in America for six, seven years now,” she says.

Ian glances at Mickey and then back at Svetlana; they all know he’s going to ask, but that doesn’t make it any less fuckin’ uncomfortable.

“So – you guys live together, obviously, but I get the sense that you’re not actually together? Like, seeing each other? Anymore, at least?”

Mickey tenses, and Yev makes an annoyed sound in his sleep.

“We were married,” Mickey says. “Now we’re not.”

“Was part for green card, part so his daddy don’t kill him,” Svetlana says helpfully.

“Oh,” Ian says, glancing over at Yev.

It’s what everyone in town assumed, that Mickey knocked up Svetlana and Terry made them get married. It’s what they still let co-workers and neighbors assume. He might be out of Terry’s reach now – in theory, at least – but Mickey still doesn’t correct them.

He stands up, shifting Yev so that he can carry the kid to bed. Svetlana and Mandy know what he’s trying to avoid.

“It’s late,” Mickey says gruffly, like Yev will sleep any more soundly in his room than he already is. “I’ll be right back.”

He takes his time switching Yev into his pajamas.

Mickey thinks, maybe, that the rules are different in this situation, or that they probably should be. Ian’s not a co-worker or a neighbor. He’s a friend who they let into their home. At least, he’s Mandy’s friend, and he probably considers himself Mickey’s friend too. More than that, Ian is openly into guys himself, so shit, shouldn’t Mickey feel comfortable with him knowing?

But there’s a difference between someone knowing, and actually fuckin’ telling someone. If Mandy happens to tell Ian, at this point, Mickey won’t really be pissed. But Mickey can’t say it. He still can’t say those words.

He sits down on the edge of Yev’s bed after he tucks him in, running a hand over his hair. Yevgeny knows that Svetlana is bisexual, that his mom dates men and women, and he accepts it as a normal part of life, but that’s because it’s always been a part of his life. This is different. Mickey’s spent the last five years lying to the most important thing that’s ever happened to him. And he hates himself for it.

He rubs a hand over his face, cursing quietly. He managed to get them all away from Terry, to start over as fresh as they could, and here he is, still fucking anonymous guys in bathroom stalls and alleyways, still tensing up every time a comment or a look might mean more than it really does, still a fuckin’ coward.

Glancing over at Yev one last time, Mickey stands up and slips out of the room, but instead of going back to the living room, he goes to his own bedroom and shuts the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey has an early shift at the gas station the next morning, and he makes coffee to the sound of Ian snoring softly of the couch. He didn’t really sleep the rest of the night, distracted by the chattering in the living room and then by his own thoughts.

The thing is, it’s been five whole years. Five years and he hasn’t said a single thing. There’s no fuckin’ reason to think things are any different now. Just because some guy is here, making Mandy smile like she means it and Yev start to open up, here, looking so earnest about everything he says, here, one leg hanging off of Mickey’s couch and a little frown pulling his eyebrows together, doesn’t mean anything has changed.

Ian might be here, but Mickey doesn’t owe him shit, and it doesn’t matter if Mickey tells him or not.

Mickey’s halfway through a third cup of coffee when Ian stirs, grumbling under his breath, but Mickey is gone before Ian can wake up fully.

It’s not until halfway through his shift, when Yev and Mandy are already at school and Svetlana is at work, that Mickey realizes that Yev has never been around Ian without Mickey there, until this morning. It’s not like Mickey doesn’t trust Mandy and Svetlana with the kid in general, or to kick Ian’s ass specifically if need be, because he really fuckin’ does. It’s just – he’d done it unintentionally. Without thinking. He’d forgotten.

Ian fuckin’ Gallagher might not change things, but he sure as hell is a distraction, and Mickey hates him for it.

Mickey texts Mandy and asks if she wants him to bring home pizza for lunch. She sends him back a “yes” and then a suspicious row of question marks, but Mickey doesn’t answer.

Mandy’s sitting on the couch with a couple of sodas and watching some kind of crime show rerun when Mickey gets home. She grabs a slice of pizza and takes a huge bite and glares at him without saying anything.

“Christ, what?” Mickey asks, opening up his soda.

“So are you gonna grill me about this morning now or later, asshole?” Mandy asks with her mouth full.

“Just fuckin’ tell me, then,” Mickey says. “Jesus.”

“It was fine,” Mandy says, “which you already know, because you would have heard if anything happened, like if Ian being here freaked out Yev, or if Ian was an asshole or something, which he wouldn’t be, but you obviously need to hear it.”

Mickey sags with relief and then pretends he was really just adjusting his pants or something and then reaches for a slice of pizza.

“Ian made us breakfast,” Mandy says. “Just scrambled eggs, but still. Yev seemed to like eating food that didn’t come out of the freezer for once.”

“Congrats,” Mickey says. “You’ve reached a new level of hypocrite. Unless you went to chef school when I wasn’t fuckin’ looking.”

“It’s called culinary school,” Mandy says smugly.

“Fuck off,” Mickey says. “Was Yev – did he seem –”

“Yeah, he was a little confused at first, but mostly excited. He wanted to show Ian all his Hot Wheels but he had to get ready for school.”

“He talk much?” Mickey asks.

“Mostly to me and Sveltana, but he still did it in front of Ian, so.”

“Svetlana stuck around?” Mickey asks, surprised.

“Yeah, mostly to glare, I think,” Mandy says, sounding amused. “But she really likes scaring Ian, so it’s fine. She didn’t show him the hammer but she did mention it, like, three times.”

“Good,” Mickey says before he can help himself. 

“Do you have some kinda problem with Ian?” Mandy asks, staring at him over her pizza.

“No,” Mickey says immediately.

He probably does, but he’s not really sure how to describe it or even how to think about it. Mandy looks like she’s not sure if she believes him.

“It’s just different, you know, having someone,” he says. “Around, I mean.”

“I know,” Mandy says. “It’s… okay, though. Right?”

Mickey shrugs, not looking at her. Luckily, Mandy lets it go for now, turning back to her crime show. Mickey’s seen this episode at least three times, but it seems like Mandy doesn’t remember that the jealous ex-boyfriend did it. After a few minutes and another slice of pizza, Mickey looks over at her.

“So why did Firecrotch need to stay the night?” he asks.

“His brother is a jackass,” Mandy replies. “They got into a fight about that guy Ian went on a date with. Lip thinks Ian’s taste is self-destructive or some bullshit, or that it’s a sign that Ian’s on some kinda ‘downward spiral.’”

“He right?” Mickey asks after a few seconds.

Mandy hesitates, which is pretty telling.

“I mean, I don’t know,” she says, sounding uncomfortable. “I haven’t exactly known Ian for very long. The guy seemed kinda sketchy from what he told me though. Like, he’s on the older side and he has a lot of money and it doesn’t sound like he’s very nice. But I don’t know what kinda guys Ian was seeing in the past when he was unstable, so.”

“I didn’t know having shit taste in guys was a sign of mental instability,” Mickey says. “If it is, we should probably get you checked out.”

“Don’t say that kinda shit in front of Ian,” Mandy says seriously. “That’s not funny.”

Mickey glances over at Mandy, surprised.

“What, I can’t make a fuckin’ joke to you?” he asks.

“It’s not a joke, asshole,” she says. “Ian’s – he’s been through a lot of shit, okay? You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Mandy’s mouth is set in a hard line and she’s staring Mickey down, serious in a way she only really gets about Yevgeny.

“Okay,” he says after a second, kinda fuckin’ surprised. “Anything else I should know?”

“You shouldn’t even know this,” Mandy says.

 “I just wanna know if I gotta be worried about anything,” Mickey starts, but Mandy cuts him off.

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” Mandy says. “Well, it is, but you don’t have to treat it like it’s a big deal. Just don’t be an asshole about it, alright? I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Whatever,” Mickey says. “I pried it out of you, okay? Us ex-cons are good at that kinda shit.”

Mandy rolls her eyes, but she looks relieved.

“Calm down,” she says. “I know you like to pretend juvie was hard shit, but we all know you were just sitting on your ass eating Jell-O all day.”

Mickey elbows her in the side, and then laughs in her face when she gasps in surprise as the ex-boyfriend confesses. They have time for another episode before one of them has to go pick up Yev from school, and a bit later on they’ll head to the park.

Mickey grabs another slice of pizza.

 -

Friday night, Mandy decides to take Yev to the mall. Mickey’s not sure if that means she’s planning on meeting up with Ian, or if it means that Ian’s busy. He and Svetlana hate the mall, so they wind up deciding to grab dinner and then go grocery shopping since neither of them have anything to do until Mickey goes to work later that night.

They’re arguing over what brand of frozen chicken nuggets to buy, a stack of coupons split between them, when Mickey hears a familiar chuckle.

“What?” Mickey asks as he turns around. “You got any suggestions?”

Ian’s standing there, smiling widely, flanked by two boys. One looks to be around Debbie’s age, and the other is much younger, and also black.

“Just observing,” Ian says easily. He points to his brothers as he says, “This is Carl, and this is Liam. Guys, these are my friends, Mickey and Svetlana.”

Mickey glancing over at Svetlana, who looks unimpressed, but Mickey’s pretty sure she actually thinks Ian calling her his friend is a little funny, if not outright charming. Carl looks almost as unamused as Svetlana does, but Mickey gets the sense that that’s his default expression.

Carl looks a little like Ian, but he’s smaller, not as tall and more wiry than anything. Aside from the obvious differences, though, Carl and Liam do look pretty similar. Both have their hair buzzed short and they have the same basic bone structure, and Liam is lanky in the way Carl probably was a few years ago. Liam’s preoccupied with the bag of gummies he’s holding.

“We’re grabbing snacks before we head to the movies,” Ian says after a second. “It’s cheaper to buy them here and sneak them in.”

“Even cheaper to steal them,” Carl says, but it’s too loud, definitely for show.

“I’m not bailing your ass out when you get caught,” Ian says, and it’s clearly routine and clearly a fuckin’ lie. He turns to Svetlana and asks, “Has Yev taken his hat off yet?”

The day before, when Mickey and Mandy were both out, Svetlana had finally taken Yev to get his hair cut. Yev had cried the whole way home and put an Iron Man beanie on the second he got in the door. The haircut isn’t even bad, of course, but Mickey’s still kind of pissed at Svetlana about it.

“He sleep in it,” Svetlana says darkly, and Ian laughs.

“Sorry,” he says, “but Carl pulled that once when he was little. In his defense, though, Fiona cut it herself and it didn’t go very well. We have pictures somewhere.”

Carl rolls his eyes.

“Haircut looks very nice,” Svetlana says, defensive, and Ian puts his hands up.

“I believe you,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll see it eventually.”

“You come over again so Yevgeny can show you his cars,” Svetlana says.

“Of course!” Ian says, genuinely looking excited at the idea.

Svetlana glances at Mickey, and he barely suppresses a snort.

“Everything good back at home then?” Mickey asks after a couple of seconds.

He’s not sure if it’s prying to ask, or if it seems genuine. He’s not really sure if it is genuine. On Wednesday, while he was tossing the football to Yev, Ian had said he’d be spending the night at home, but he hadn’t sounded happy about it. And ever since that conversation with Mandy, Mickey’s been curious.

“Mostly,” Ian says, and the look on his face suggests that he knows Mickey knows something, at least. “I wound up taking Lip’s advice, even if I’m still pissed at him for his reasoning.”

It’s vague, but specific enough that Mickey will get it if he gets it. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to get it, though, so he just nods. Ian’s looking at Mickey really intently, and combined with Carl’s heavy-lidded, unimpressed stare, it’s kind of freaking him out.

“That’s good,” Mickey says eventually, even though he’s not sure if it is. “Mandy said you were having some kinda party next weekend, right? So it’s good you got shit sorted out before then.”

“Oh yeah!” Ian says, nudging Liam, who ignores him, digging through a nearby bin of leftover Halloween candy. “It’s Liam’s ninth birthday next week, so we’re having a barbeque, or a bonfire, or whatever you want to call it. It’ll be in the backyard, but there’ll be a fire, so it’ll be warm enough. I already told Mandy you guys are all invited, but I wanted to talk to you two about it first, so you can figure out if Yev would be comfortable before I actually tell him about it?”

Ian looks really hopeful, and Mickey feels uncomfortable as he shrugs. Svetlana shrugs, too, but that’s because she doesn’t know much past what she learned on Tuesday night and Wednesday morning.

“I don’t know,” Mickey says, and Ian nods, like he was expecting that. “I mean, he won’t really know anyone –”

“Right,” Ian says, “which is why I was thinking that he could meet Liam beforehand. We could all hang out. The planetarium is having a free day tomorrow and we were planning on going, and you could join us?”

Mickey shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t have work tomorrow afternoon, although Svetlana does, and Svetlana had promised to bring Yevgeny to a fuckin’ museum soon, and the planetarium is probably close enough that Yev will be temporarily satisfied. Ian’s giving Mickey his most earnest face and Svetlana is looking more and more amused, but secretly, of course.

“I’ll ask him,” Mickey finally says, and Ian smiles hugely.

“That’s great!” Ian says. “Text me later. Wait, do you have my number?”

“Ian, we gotta go,” Carl says, glaring at his brother.

“Oh, shit,” Ian says. “Okay, uh, ask Mandy for my number later, okay?”

Mickey nods, and Ian smiles again, before pushing at his brothers’ shoulders to get them moving.

“See you later,” Ian says. “Come on, guys, let’s go pay.”

Mickey refuses to look at Svetlana after Ian and his brothers walk away. She’s staring at him, and he feels super fuckin’ uncomfortable with the attention, but he’s not sure why.

“What?” Mickey snaps.

“Is nothing,” Svetlana says, but she stares at him out of the corner of her eye the rest of the time they’re shopping.

 -

Yev sleeps in his hat again, but Mickey at least convinces him to take it off long enough to shower in the morning, after they eat half the frozen waffles in the freezer. Mickey assesses the haircut while pretending not to as he helps Yev towel off. It’s maybe a little awkward-looking, shorter on the sides and fluffy on top, but after a couple of days of growing in it should be fine. Yev had caused trouble by refusing to take the hat off at school the day before, but maybe by Monday they’ll have it worked out.

Yev puts the hat back on while his hair is still damp, pouting up at Mickey.

“Hat hair isn’t gonna make it look any better, kid,” Mickey says, but he lets Yev do it anyway.

He just barely manages to wrestle Yev into both a sweater and a jacket before they leave, shoving a couple of Hot Wheels cars into his pocket for Yev to play with and probably lose on the L. His phone buzzes as he’s locking the front door of the apartment.

_on your way yet? were almost there_

_yes_ , Mickey replies, because texting with one hand while keeping a hold on Yev with the other is fuckin’ hard, and it’s not really a lie. Ian will definitely get there way sooner than them, but whatever.

Ian texts him again when they’re waiting for the train to leave, Yev driving a car along the back of the seat in front of them. Mickey has an arm out so that Yev doesn’t topple forward.

_found a bench outside, call if you dont see us_

_ok_ , Mickey replies, and then he leans over to retie Yev’s shoelace.

“Are we gonna see a spaceship?” Yev asks around the fingers in his mouth.

Another one of his teeth is lose. Mickey pulls Yev’s hand away and wipes the spit off on his own sweater.

“Maybe,” Mickey says, because he has no idea what the fuck a planetarium is, other than that it’ll be fun for a kid obsessed with aliens.

“What about dinosaurs?” Yev asks, because Svetlana promised he could see dinosaurs if they went to a museum.

“Probably not,” Mickey says.

That’s how they spend the rest of the ride and the walk from the station, Yev swinging from Mickey’s arm and asking if he’ll get to see increasingly bizarre things, like a giraffe, or a submarine. Mickey’s not sure if Yev is listing actual things he’d see at a museum or if he’s playing a game. Kids are fuckin’ weird.

Mickey spots Ian quickly once they reach the planetarium. Liam is sitting next to him, playing a game on Ian’s phone and a wearing a sweatshirt for the planetarium under a puffy coat. Ian actually has a t-shirt for the planetarium on too, underneath an aggressively green plaid shirt and a jacket.

“Hey,” Mickey says when they got close enough.

“Hey!” Ian says. “I hope you ate a big breakfast, because we’re not paying for the overpriced shit they sell here, and Liam and I usually stay until we absolutely need to eat.”

“We should be good,” Mickey says, watching as Yev eyes Liam, who’s still playing with Ian’s phone.

Mickey really hopes that today doesn’t turn into Ian running his mouth while the rest of them stand around uncomfortably or disinterestedly. When Ian stands up, though, Liam hands the phone over and gets up too, glancing at Yev’s Iron Man hat with what looks like approval.

“Liam, this is Yev,” Ian says, before crouching down in front of Yev, who squints at him. “Yev, this is my little brother, Liam. We’re gonna show you around the planetarium, okay?”

Yev nods, excited again.

“Good,” Ian says, getting back up and placing a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Lead the way, buddy.”

Liam looks excited, too, and Mickey wonders how often they come to the planetarium, if they try to do this whenever there’s free entry. Then he remembers that there’s no reason he can’t ask.

“You guys come here a lot?” he asks as they head inside, Mickey keeping a tight grip on Yev’s hand.

“We usually make it here every couple of months,” Ian says. “Sometimes Debbie or someone will come with us, but usually it’s just the two of us. I hung out with Liam a lot went he first got really into aliens and shit a couple of years ago, so it kinda stuck.”

“Ian liked it when I read to him,” Liam says helpfully, leading them toward a dark room with lots of big screens on the walls.

“Uh, I was pretty sick around the time Liam was learning to read,” Ian says, looking uncomfortable. “I was stuck in bed, and it helped.”

Being stuck in bed doesn’t sound to Mickey like it could be connected to being “unstable” and making shitty dating choices, but Mickey also has no fuckin’ idea what he’s talking about, so he lets it drop, and Ian looks relieved.

Liam is running around poking at different monitors connected to the ones on the walls, and Ian hangs back, keeping a close eye on him. Yev looks kind of overwhelmed by the flashing lights and loud voices being played by the speakers, and he sticks close to Mickey’s side, not even trying to pull away.

“What’s this room about?” Mickey asks.

“The evolution of the universe,” Ian says. “You’ll hear the big bang at some point, probably.”

Yev doesn’t look very impressed, tugging at his hat with his free hand.

“We can go to a different exhibit,” Ian says. “Liam, let’s go to Planet Explorers. Amy and Gemma loved that the time Vee brought them, right?”

“Yeah,” Liam says after a second, glancing over at Yev. “Okay.”

Mickey feels a little bad because the kid probably spends a lot of his time catering to five-year-olds, but Liam’s also been here four thousand times already, so whatever.

Planet Explorers basically turns out to be a space-themed playground, and Yev is tugging at Mickey’s hand within seconds. Liam looks amused, like he’s too cool for playgrounds now, especially ones that take place on the moon or some shit.

“I can take him in,” Liam says very seriously, like he’s making some kind of sacrifice.

Ian turns a laugh into a cough, smiling down at his shoes.

“Okay,” Mickey says after a second.

Yev runs off to start fiddling with the handles in some kind of moon truck thing and Liam follows after him, too casually. By the time Yev is playing with the moon rocks, Liam is holding, like, seven at the same time and chattering away, and Yev seems to be listening intently as he throws a rock on the ground to see if it bounces. It doesn’t.

“You think Liam is telling him about how he’s too old for this baby shit?” Mickey asks.

Ian laughs.

“He did the same thing when we brought the girls a couple of months ago,” he says. “He’s probably telling Yev every fact he’s ever read about space rocks or whatever. There was this one day back then when I couldn’t tell you what my name was, but I could remember pretty much every piece of trivia about Mars that’s ever been written.”

Ian’s smiling, his hands in his back pockets and his shoulders relaxed, really relaxed. Before Mickey can decide if he should say something, Yev and Liam come over.

“Daddy,” Yev whines, putting his arms up so that Mickey will pull his sweater off.

The hat comes off too in the process, but Yev doesn’t even notice because he’s so excited, so Mickey shoves the hat into his back pocket as sneakily as possible while he throws the sweater over his shoulder on top of Yev’s jacket with the other hand. Liam leads them over to a little house with a backyard that’s full of magnifying glasses and display monitors.

“I’ll show you the cool ones,” Liam says.

“Okay,” Yev says, following him.

Ian elbows Mickey in the side, grinning. Mickey glares, and Ian laughs.

“So about the party,” Ian says, quickly adding, “if you decide you want to come, I mean. I’m not really sure who’s gonna be there, ‘cause I never know who’s gonna be home other than whoever’s watching Liam, but it should be pretty casual. There’ll be food, and a bonfire, and I think we might have fireworks left around somewhere that Carl stole this summer, and there’ll be kids for Yev to hang out with and drinks for you and Mandy and Svetlana. And you’ve already met most of my siblings! Well, half of my siblings.”

Ian’s giving Mickey that wide-eyed hopeful look he must practice in the mirror. Mickey waits a few seconds.

“Whatever,” he sighs.

“Great!” Ian says. “I already gave Mandy the address.”

“Unbelievable,” Mickey laughs, shaking his head, and Ian laughs too, throwing his head back.

Mickey’s startled when Yev pulls at his hand.

“I wanna go in the spear,” he says.

“What?” Mickey asks.

“Oh, the sphere?” Ian asks Liam, who nods. To Mickey, Ian says, “It’s a simulator. It shows constellations and shit.”

“Okay, sure,” Mickey says, because he’s not really sure what that means.

The sphere turns out to literally be a big sphere, and there’s a couple of benches that slide right into its belly, engulfing them in darkness dotted with tons of little beads of light. Yev is shifting uncertainly next to Mickey before they enter, so Mickey puts an arm around him to ground them both. Liam is bouncing excitedly on Yev’s other side, and Mickey glances across the kids at Ian right as they slide in.

Ian is bathed in flickering pinpricks of light, dotting his skin in the darkness like his faded freckles do, but a million times brighter. When Ian blinks, his faint eyelashes catch in the light. Mickey turns his head away sharply, dizzy and gasping as he looks out at the shifting stars. He feels untethered. It feels like his head is floating away from his body, or maybe his stomach, or his lungs. Some part of him isn’t working correctly. That’s the only thing he knows.

The employee behind them makes an uncertain sound, maybe asking a question. Mickey hadn’t realized she was even there. There’s a hand on the back of his neck.

“Mickey?” Ian says.

“People get dizzy in here all the time,” the girl says. “Someone even puked yesterday. I’ll just pull you guys out. Don’t worry about it.”

“Debbie puked,” Liam says. “Remember?”

“I remember,” Ian says distractedly.

Mickey has his head between his knees, breathing through his nose. Yev slides off the seat and crouches down in front of him between his legs, tilting his head around so he can see Mickey’s face. Mickey laughs weakly.

“Hey, kid,” he says.

“Are you sick, Daddy?” Yev asks.

“Nah,” Mickey says. “Just gimme a second.”

Ian’s hand is still on the back of his neck, clammy and twitching. Mickey sits up more quickly than he should, and Ian’s hand falls away.

“You want me to go get you a water or something?” Ian asks.

Mickey shakes his head, not looking over at Ian. He still feels shaky, and heavy, like gravity’s not working properly, but he’s shaken off much worse. One time before he dropped out of high school he lasted three days before anyone noticed he had a broken rib, even Mandy.

His rib was broken because he’d gotten into a fight with some guy he’d been fucking, because the guy had made a joke about prom and Mickey had punched him even though he knew it was a joke and even though the guy was bigger and much faster than him.

Mickey stands up, pulling Yev with him. Ian’s kind of hovering, following close behind but not saying anything as Mickey leads them back towards the main hallway.

“Can we go look at the solar system?” Liam asks uncertainly.

“Lead the way,” Mickey says before Ian can suggest they leave or something.

The most important part of the solar system exhibit is the giant planets hanging from the ceiling. Yev ignores everything else and walks Mickey along the center of the room, leaning so far back to see that he looks like he’s about to topple over. His other hand is halfway raised, like he wants to reach up and try to touch them, but he knows he won’t make it.

“You wanna get closer?” Ian asks. “You can sit on my shoulders.”

“Okay,” Yev says easily.

Once Yev is situated, he tilts his head back again, and Ian grabs onto his ankles tightly.

“Don’t go too far back, bud,” Ian says.

They walk around a bit more, sticking to the middle section so Yev can stretch his arms upward.

“You dropped this,” Liam says to Mickey after a bit, holding up Yev’s hat, which must have fallen out of his pocket.

“Daddy,” Yev says, scandalized, clapping both hands to the top of his head. “I need my hat!”

Mickey sighs as Ian stifles a laugh. He moves forward to put it back on Yev’s head, and Yev leans down close over Ian’s head to push his own head closer. Ian even squats a little, which is fuckin’ insulting, because Mickey is not _that_ much shorter than him. Mickey focuses on situating the hat on Yev’s head and not at all on how close he is to Ian, how he can hear the idiot’s fuckin’ mouth-breathing from this close.

Mickey makes the mistake of pulling his hands away at the exact second that Ian straightens his legs and they’re close, way too fuckin’ close and looking right at each other, and then someone bumps into Liam who bumps into Mickey who somehow manages not to bump into Ian. Mickey turns around, relieved and annoyed, to see an employee staring at them.

“I’m so sorry!” she says, mostly to Liam. “It gets so crowded on free entry days. I hope you’re having a good time.”

She looks to Liam, and then Yev. Liam nods, and after a second, Yev does too.

“Oh, they’re shy,” the woman says, delighted. “You two are lucky to have such well-behaved kids.”

“Uh,” Mickey says, and honestly he’s mostly thinking about how Liam’s kinda old to be Ian’s kid when he starts to say, “that’s not really –”

“I’m sorry,” the woman says. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything. Don’t worry, we get all sorts of families here.”

Mickey stiffens.

“Fuckin’ excuse me?” he asks.

The woman startles, either at the language or because she can’t tell why Mickey’s pissed, but Mickey doesn’t care. He can see Ian taking Yev off of his shoulders out of the corner of his eye and he’s just waiting for Ian to say something.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” the woman says again. “I saw you both before and I just thought –”

“You thought what, huh?” Mickey asks, too loudly, but he can’t stop it now. “You just thought we were a couple of fags?”

The woman flinches, looking even more uncertain now.

“Um, sir, I’m sorry, but can you please lower your voice?” she says, looking over her shoulder for another employee.

Ian grabs at Mickey’s arm, and Mickey shoves him off, doesn’t look at whatever look is on Ian’s face, doesn’t want to see it.

“Come on, Mickey,” Ian says tightly. “It’s not a big deal –”

“You’re crazy if you think it’s not a big fuckin’ deal,’ Mickey snaps, and Ian’s eyes widen, and then they harden, his chin jutting out.

“Sir,” the woman says again, and Mickey is finally able to look away from Ian, but he doesn’t look at her either.

Yevgeny is standing next to a glaring Liam, and he looks upset, and Mickey is so, so grateful that he doesn’t look scared.

“Come on,” Mickey says, putting out his arms, and Yev runs to him.

Yev buries his neck in Mickey’s shoulder as Mickey walks off, not looking back at Ian, not listening to the woman as she calls after him. He runs a hand up and down Yev’s back as he heads out of the planetarium, breathing deeply through his nose.

It’s not different this time, he tells himself. It’s exactly the same as every other time this shit has happened, he tells himself, trying not to picture Ian’s widened, hurt eyes.

 -

Yev is quiet the whole ride home. He doesn’t even ask for his Hot Wheels on the train, leaning against Mickey’s side and pulling at the cuff of his sweater. Mickey’s starting to get worried when they get home and Yev is still quiet.

“Yev,” he says, following the kid into his room and watching him pull off his sneakers. “What’s up?”

Yev pulls off his jacket and his sweater too and fixes his hat before he turns around and looks at Mickey, squinting.

“The museum lady thought Ian was my dad too,” Yev says.

“Yeah,” Mickey says carefully, sitting down on the edge of Yev’s bed. Yev stands in front of him, a few inches away.

“She thought you were married to Ian?” he asks.

“I guess, yeah,” Mickey says, uncomfortable.

“It made you mad,” Yev says.

Mickey doesn’t say anything.

“Do Mama and Nika make you mad?” Yev asks after a second, looking down at his feet.

“No,” Mickey says quickly, and Yev looks back up at him.

“Does Ian make you mad?”

“No,” Mickey says again, after a second.

“Why did what the lady said make you mad?” Yev asks.

Mickey sighs, looking down at his clenched fists, and then glancing back up at Yev, who looks so confused.

“It made me scared,” Mickey admits quietly.

“Why?”

“Because she was right,” Mickey says haltingly. “About me.”

“And Ian?” Yev asks, surprised. “You want to marry Ian?”

Mickey jumps.

“It’s, uh, more general than that,” he says, and then shakes his head. “I mean, she was right that I want – that I like –”

“Oh,” Yev says. “Boys?”

“Yeah,” Mickey says hoarsely. “Yes. I’m –”

His voice cuts out. He puts his face in his hands and breathes through his nose for a second.

“I’m… I’m gay.”

He looks up at Yev, who’s looking right back, doing his staring thing.

“I’m gay,” Mickey says again.

He and Yev look at each other for a second.

“Do you – do you know what that means?” Mickey asks.

“It’s different from Mama,” Yev says. “Mama likes girls and boys.”

“Right,” Mickey says.

“Okay,” Yev says after a second.

He looks like he’s about to ask something else, and Mickey hopes he doesn’t ask another question about Ian, because Mickey won’t have an answer.

“Can we have a snack?”

Mickey laughs, startled. He pulls Yev onto his lap, kissing the side of Yev’s head a few times before pressing his face there.

“Daddy, come on,” Yev whines, squirming.

“Okay,” Mickey says, not moving.

He let Yev shift into a more comfortable position, his head on Mickey’s shoulder, and then Mickey waits until the tension eases out of his own limbs bit by bit, rubbing a hand over Yev’s hair.

“Can we have Pop Tarts?” Yev asks sleepily a few minutes later.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Mickey says, picking Yev up to walk to the kitchen.

When Mandy comes home, they’re dozing on the couch with some cartoon on the television.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mandy demands.

“Shit, Mandy, what the hell?” Mickey asks, wrapping an arm around Yev as he sits up.

“I just talked to Ian and he said he can’t come to the park this Wednesday or, like, ever fucking again, and he said to ask you why. What did you do, shithead?”

Mickey looks away from her. Yev shifts against him, half waking up.

“The lady thought Daddy wanted to marry Ian,” he mumbles.

Mickey sighs. That’s not even close to correct, but it’s still pretty telling. Mandy is squinting at him when he glances over.

“Well I don’t know what the fuck that means,” she says eventually, “but I’m guessing you fucked up.”

“I fucked up,” Mickey agrees, and then he looks down at Yev, who’s out cold again. “But I, uh, I told. I told Yev.”

Mandy blinks.

“Fuckin’ really?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Mickey says.

“Call in sick,” she says. “And put Yev in bed. We’re drinking now.”

“It’s, like, 2pm,” Mickey says.

“Okay, Mr. Responsible Adult,” Mandy says. “Svetlana will be home before we’re even drunk. She can feed all of us.”

“Alright,” Mickey says.

He falls asleep shoulder to shoulder with Mandy on the couch hours later, and she doesn’t ask him about Ian again even once.

-

Mickey doesn’t understand how a dance club gets so crowded on a weeknight, but he usually spends his indoor shifts huddled up against the bar, glaring out into the crowd and ignoring the chit-chat the bartenders try to make with him for the first hour or so before they take a hint. Sometimes he’ll let his eyes linger on a guy or two as they dance or stand at the bar, think about who he might take home if he didn’t have another job to get to in the morning, if he didn’t have to head to another part of the city entirely to do it.

He’s not sure if things are different, now that Yev knows. He’s not sure if it means he can pick someone up, here, where people kinda know who he is. The thought of going up to someone once his shift ends, asking some guy if he’ll let Mickey buy him a drink, walking out the front door shoulder to shoulder, it still makes his skin crawl.

Mickey’s got a hand in his pocket as he leans against the bar, holding his phone but not pulling it out. Mandy’s been harassing him for the past few days, telling him that he needs to text Ian, because Ian’s been making his kicked dog face all week, and Yev’s been pouty since Ian didn’t show up to the park yesterday, and Mickey needs to grow the fuck up and do something about it, according to her.

Thing is, Mickey’s not really sure what he’s supposed to say, other than that he fucked up. He doesn’t know what he wants from Ian, and he doesn’t know what Ian wants from him. He doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen next even if he does apologize for the shit he said, like a normal person would. He might’ve come out to Yev, but that doesn’t mean Mickey’s ready to go around waving a fuckin’ rainbow flag or admitting to having feelings.

He’s not sure if Ian even thinks Mickey is gay. Homophobic asshole is a more reasonable assumption to make than closeted asshole, after what Mickey did, and all of their interactions have been centered around Yev, so it’s not like Ian’s really indicated any kind of interest in Mickey.

Mickey pulls his hand out of his pocket and turns to glare at a couple making out against a wall, mostly in the shadows, but the strobe lights shine over them every couple of seconds. If they keep going for much longer, he’s going to have to go over and break them up.

“Uh, ‘scuse me,” someone says, and Mickey turns to see a tall girl with fluffy brown hair and a wide smile. “Hey, can you tell me where the ladies’ room is?”

“That way and to the left,” Mickey says, pointing past the couple who are still going at it.

“Thanks,” the girl says. “Um, actually, could you watch my drink? Is that weird? I don’t wanna bring it in with me and I can’t find my brother –”

“Sure,” Mickey says, pointing over his shoulder at the bar.

She leans past him to put the bottle down and then darts off as Mickey shifts so that the drink is in his line of sight. The women’s bathroom line is usually pretty long so it takes a bit for her to come back, and Mickey’s planning to go break up that couple as soon as she does.

“Thank you so much,” the girl says when Mickey hands her the bottle, and then she turns away and says, “Oh, there you are!”

“What do you mean, there I am? I was looking for you,” Ian says, and Mickey freezes up when he looks past the girl and spots him.

Ian’s got on a black t-shirt and his hair is pushed back sloppily, and he’s smiling until he looks past the girl and sees Mickey.

“Oh,” he says.

“What?” the girl asks quickly. “What, what’s wrong? Ian?”

She looks back at Mickey, who’s uncomfortable, crossing his arms like that might help.

“Fi,” Ian starts to say, looking a little embarrassed, but his sister interrupts him.

“What, you two know each other?” she asks, tossing Mickey a calculating look. “What’s your name?”

“Uh,” Mickey says, glancing at Ian, but Ian’s looking at Fiona still. “Uh, Mickey.”

“Oh,” Fiona says darkly, and Mickey doesn’t know how she packs so much into one syllable.

“Fiona, whatever you’re gonna say, just don’t, okay?” Ian says quickly. “I can handle it.”

He looks resigned, though, like he’s used to whatever’s coming, and he’s still not really looking at Mickey.

“Look,” Fiona says, and suddenly she’s inches away, poking a finger into Mickey’s chest. “Ian’s been doin’ really great, and he doesn’t need toxic people like you comin’ along and fuckin’ things up, alright? Ian needs stable relationships, not whatever your bullshit is.”

Mickey blinks at the oddly specific phrasing, like it came right out of a fuckin’ therapist’s mouth, and then doesn’t say anything, because it’s not like she’s wrong.

“Oh, you could at least fuckin’ apologize!” Fiona shouts, smacking Mickey’s chest with the back of her hand. “You said that shit in front of Liam too, you know. And your own kid?”

Mickey flinches.

“Fiona,” Ian says again, desperately.

“No,” Fiona says, thumping Mickey on the chest again. “If you go around sayin’ shit like that in front of your kid then you shouldn’t be letting Ian think there’s a chance of anything goin’ on, alright?”

“Fiona, it wasn’t even like that,” Ian says, glancing at Mickey before looking away again. “It’s not like I thought we were on a date or something –”

“Did you wanna be?” Fiona asks.

Ian doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at either of them.

“What about you?” Fiona asks, turning to Mickey. “Did you wanna be?”

Mickey’s mouth goes dry. He has no idea what his face looks like. After a few seconds, Fiona laughs.

“You can’t say it, even now?” she asks. “See, Ian? Not worth your trouble –”

“I came out to Yev,” Mickey says, too loudly, looking right at Ian. “I told him I’m – that I’m gay. Okay? I know that doesn’t fix shit but it means – it means it doesn’t have to happen again. Ever again.”

Ian and Fiona both stare at him, mouths open indelicately. Mickey looks away, wiping a hand over his mouth. After a couple of seconds, he shrugs.

“I’m – it’s fine if it doesn’t change anything,” Mickey says.

“Fuck,” Fiona says, taking a long drag from her drink. “I’m gonna go… over there.”

Ian still looks kind of stunned when Mickey glances over, but he also looks confused.

“I don’t know how it changes things yet either,” Mickey says. “I don’t know – I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay?”

“Look,” Ian says eventually. “You can still come to the party. If you want. I – you should come.”

Ian has his hands in his pockets and he looks confused, his eyes wide, so Mickey nods.

“Okay,” he says.

Ian smiles, just a little.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna go find Fiona. See you Sunday.”

As Ian walks away, Mickey wipes a hand over his face, sighing. The bartender closest to him leans over the bar, and Mickey expects her to tell him to go break up that couple, if they’re still pressed against the wall, going at it.

“So you’re gay?” the bartender asks. “Me too!”

“Fuck off,” Mickey says, moving to stand against a different part of the bar.

 -

In the end, they’re late for the party. Mandy forgets to wrap the Hot Wheels Yev picked out until they’re about to leave, and none of them are even really sure if nine-year-olds even still play with Hot Wheels. Yev also can’t find his left shoe. Svetlana stands by the front door cursing loudly in Russian for fifteen minutes before they get out the door, but it’s because she’s nervous. Mickey’s not sure if she’s just worried for Yev being in a big group of people he barely knows, or if she’s afraid that Ian’s sister is going to deck Mickey as soon as they show up. Mickey’s not sure which one has him more nervous either.

Yev bounces with excitement the whole train ride there, and Mickey’s pretty sure it’s mostly because he hasn’t seen Ian in a week but also a little bit because there’s going to be cake. Svetlana tells him to calm the hell down or something in Russian, like, six fuckin’ times, but Yev doesn’t.

They only have a little trouble finding the Gallagher house once they get off the train, but they know they’ve reached the right block when they hear loud music and shouting and see a ratty-looking man passed out on the sidewalk who’s probably Frank.

“Cute,” Mandy says, pulling Yev into the street to walk around him.

The front gate is propped open with a brick when they get there, and it’s pretty clear from the noise that everyone is out back, so Mandy leads them around the side of the tall, narrow house. There’s a shitty old van parked behind the house and a grill near the haphazard steps, and there’s a fold-out table covered in food and a bunch of lawn chairs around a bonfire that’s clearly handmade and probably pretty unsafe.

There’s a handful of kids running around, at the opposite end of the yard from the fire, and there are probably some extra parents here or there, but it’s not too hard to tell them from the Gallaghers and Gallagher offshoots based on who looks a little uncomfortable and who looks totally at home, sprawling with a beer or manning the grill or hanging off the back steps.

Carl spots them first from the steps.

“Ian!” he shouts, and Ian turns around from where he’s standing near the grill.

He smiles when he sees them and comes right over.

“Hey,” he says, focusing mostly on Yev.

“We brought Hot Wheels,” Yev blurts, and then he looks embarrassed, leaning against Mandy’s side.

“Don’t worry,” Ian laughs as he takes the gift from Mandy. “I won’t tell.”

He gestures over his shoulder with a thumb.

“Carl’s on drink duty because he got in trouble at school again, so tell him what you want and he’ll run inside and get it. And Kev is taking requests at the grill, so make sure you tell him before we start to run out and I have to go back to the store.”

He looks down at Yev, considering.

“You wanna meet the rest of my family?” he asks.

Yev looks up at Mandy, swinging her hand.

“I want to,” Mandy says. “Come on, Yev.”

Ian leads them around the backyard, and Mickey winds up situated kind of between the steps and the grill, sipping a beer and half-listening as Svetlana and Vee talk about the horrors of five-year-olds. Mandy ends up sticking with Ian and Debbie, watching as Yev and the twin girls try to keep up with the older kids in some version of tag. Fiona is chatting loudly with Kev about football but she keeps glancing at Mickey every few minutes. Carl leans over the rickety-looking steps and right at Mickey.

“Have you ever been to prison?” Carl asks, staring at Mickey’s knuckle tattoos.

“Just juvie,” Mickey replies.

“That’s great!” Kev says. “’Cause there’s only one felon allowed per Gallagher party, right, Fi?”

“We got a one-felon limit,” Fiona agrees. “Company policy.”

That doesn’t make Mickey feel any less like Fiona might pick up the barbeque tongs and whack him. He decides to ask Ian later what felony his sister committed, if he can figure out a non-terrible way to do it.

“Yo,” someone says from above Mickey.

He turns around to see a guy, heavy-lidded like Carl but with a halo of light messy hair, leaning precariously over the stairs and looking right at him.

“Mickey, right?” the guy says. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

It doesn’t sound like a question, so Mickey squints at him for a second before heading up the stairs and following him into the kitchen.

“You’re Lip?” Mickey asks, but the guy doesn’t answer.

He stares at Mickey, expressionless in a way that’s kind of creepy.

“Whatever you wanna say, your sister probably already said it,” Mickey says.

“Nah,” Lip says, shrugging. “Fiona likes to threaten first, ask questions later. I prefer to sit back and watch.”

Lip takes a couple of casual steps forward, like he’s stalking prey or some shit. Mickey consciously doesn’t move back.

“I’m good at it,” Lip says. “I notice shit. Ian? He’s a second chances kinda guy. And third. And fourth. He doesn’t let go too easily. That’s why you’re here today. But when you fuck up? I will see it. And I will remember it when Ian doesn’t. Every time. And when Ian decides he’s done, you’re gonna regret every time.”

Lip still has the exact same blank expression on his face. He stares at Mickey for a few more seconds, and then he heads outside, letting the door shut loudly behind him.

“What the fuck,” Mickey says after a second.

When the door opens again a couple of seconds later, he startles and then tries to pretend he didn’t.

“Oh,” Debbie says. “Uh, hi?”

“I was, uh, looking for the bathroom,” Mickey says.

“It’s right there,” Debbie says, pointing to a door, like, a foot away from her.

“Right,” Mickey says. “Thanks.”

He and Debbie stare at one another for a second before he actually heads into the bathroom.

When he heads back out of the house, Ian has one of the twins under each arm and Yev hanging off of his back. Mickey plants himself next to Svetlana again and lets Vee draw him into the conversation this time, and she laughs loudly when he tells her about how they finally got Yev to stop wearing his hat two days ago. Fiona brings over their food at one point, and Mickey actually relaxes a little bit until he notices that Lip is standing with Debbie by the kids, watching Ian play with Yev, a calculating expression on his face.

After they have cake – much of which ends up on Yev’s shirt – everyone stands up to watch Liam open presents. Mickey stands at the back of the group, and he’s startled when Ian comes and stands next to him.

“Yev looks like he’s having fun,” Ian says.

“Yeah,” Mickey agrees.

“I heard Lip cornered you.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says again.

Ian looks like he already knows what Lip said. Mickey wonders how many other people Lip has given that speech to, and how many of them deserved it.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Mickey blurts.

Ian looks at him, and then shrugs.

“It’s not like I really told you,” Ian says. “You didn’t know.”

“I knew enough,” Mickey says. After a second he adds, “You can tell me the rest.”

Ian glances at him, but before he can open his mouth, Mickey speaks again.

“I – I want you to tell me the rest.”

Ian gives him a serious, searching look before he turns away, watching Liam open up some kind of telescope.

“I don’t know what Mandy’s told you,” Ian says, too casually, “but I’m bipolar. I’m on medication now and I stick to a pretty strict schedule, so I’m mostly okay, but it’s still, you know, shitty. But it’s not like it used to be. It used to be – a couple of weeks of running around thinking I could do anything and being unable to stop myself from trying, and then all of a sudden I couldn’t get out of bed or move or exist. Just back and forth all the time. Usually I don’t feel crazy anymore. It’s not as intense now, but it’s still – a lot.”

Ian glances over at Mickey.

“People don’t really like to – deal with me,” he says. “With it, I mean.”

“I said what I said ‘cause I’m an idiot,” Mickey says. “Not because of you. Or how you are.”

Ian smiles a little, and then glances over at Lip and Fiona. Lip is staring at them openly over his beer.

“They don’t know that though,” Mickey realizes. “They think I’ll make you… unstable, or whatever? Or that you already are, and that’s why I’m here?”

“My family is, uh,” Ian says, and the he pauses. “Overprotective? They overreact. I mean, they have reason to. When I first got sick nobody really noticed and things got… scary. But it’s still frustrating. They think everything’s a warning sign of something now.”

“They’re not wrong though,” Mickey says. “About me. I’m – I am toxic. I don’t know what I’m fuckin’ doing.”

Ian stares at him for a couple of seconds.

“I never really had to hide who I was or whatever growing up,” Ian says. “I mean, I did it anyway, but once I stopped, it wasn’t a big shift or anything.”

Ian looks down at his drink for a few seconds before he talks again, slowly.

“Mandy’s told me a little bit about your dad. I’m guessing Svetlana meant it when she said you married her so your dad wouldn’t kill you?”

Mickey laughs harshly.

“You have no fuckin’ idea,” he says.

“I really don’t,” Ian says. “What I mean is, you gotta – you gotta tell me what shit is or isn’t okay, what shit makes you uncomfortable, what you’re not ready to do yet. If we’re gonna do this.”

Mickey stares at him, and after a few seconds, Ian laughs.

“Mickey,” he says helplessly. “Look, Mickey, I wanna ask you if you’ll go on a date with me, but I don’t know if you’re gonna fucking punch me if I do it.”

Mickey flinches a little, because he can’t help it, but when he looks around on one’s paying attention but Lip, and he already thinks he know what’s going on here, so fuck him. Ian laughs a little.

“See?” he says. “I don’t know if you’re gonna get pissed if I stand, like, an inch too close to you. That’s what I’m saying. You gotta help me out here, man.”

Mickey stares at him.

“A date,” he says slowly. “I’ve never been on a fuckin’ date in my life, Gallagher.”

“I was gonna suggest we go to a Blackhawks game or something,” Ian says easily. “You know, something real macho. We can even sneak in, if you want.”

Mickey looks down at his beer.

“You know I don’t really know yet what shit’s gonna make me wanna punch you,” he says, casually, like they’re talking about something fuckin’ normal.

“Just try to give a guy a little warning,” Ian says, smiling. “So I can duck or something.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Mickey says.

They stand there and watch Liam open the rest of his gifts, and Ian drifts a little bit closer until their arms are almost touching, and Mickey lets him, and it’s fine.

Yev falls asleep on a lawn chair around the time it starts to get dark, because Ian let him have a second piece of cake and then he ran around with the other kids until he passed out. Mickey hauls him up and is shifting him onto his hip, into a position that’s hopefully comfortable for both of them, when Fiona comes over.

“I’m not sorry I yelled at you,” Fiona says. “But I am happy you’re here.”

Mickey blinks at her.

“Okay,” he says.

“Yev is a great kid,” she adds, earnest in the same way Ian gets. “Ian talks about him all the time. He talks about all of you guys all the time.”

She looks down at the stack of used plastic plates in her hands for a second.

“I want this to be good for him,” she says. “Don’t fuck it up, okay?”

“I’m gonna try,” Mickey says, more honestly than he means to.

Fiona smiles.

-

Tuesday night, Ian is going to sneak Mickey into a Blackhawks game, and Mickey kind of wants to puke. He puts on his least-tattered sweater, because he doesn’t know how people dress for dates or for hockey games, and before he leaves, Svetlana hauls him into the bathroom and does something to his hair, slicking it back.

“You do not bring orange boy back here for sex,” she says when she’s done, staring down her nose at him.

“Oh my god,” Mickey says loudly, and then he leaves.

He meets Ian outside of the L station near the arena, finding him already leaning against a wall with his hands in his pockets. Ian’s wearing a dark, tight t-shirt and his hair is done nicely like it was that other time Mickey saw him ready for a date, but he’s wearing a battered-looking Blackhawks jacket that makes him look like a total dork.

“Hey,” Ian says with a smile, just like he always does, and Mickey takes a deep breath and tries to smile back.

They sit in the nosebleed seats, where people don’t really pay attention to their ticket numbers. Mickey knows enough about hockey to know that the Blackhawks hate the Red Wings, who they’re playing against tonight, so there should be a lot of fights, on the ice and off of it. He’s kinda exited.

“You want a beer or something?” Ian asks after they get situated. “I’ll buy.”

The game hasn’t started yet and the crowd is antsy. A beer would probably help him relax a little.

“Sure,” Mickey says.

When Ian is gone, he checks his phone. There’s a text from Svetlana.

_dont forget to tell orange boy yevgeny say hi_

Mickey laughs. He’s already told Ian, because Yev asked him to four times that afternoon.

 _he says hi back_ , Mickey replies.

Ian comes back with a beer, which he hands to Mickey, and a water for himself.

“Oh,” Mickey says, feeling awkward.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ian says quickly. “I’m used to being the sober buddy. I can drink a bit, but my medication makes me a lightweight, and it’s not that fun.”

“Alright,” Mickey says, deciding to stick to just one beer. “Yev says hi again, by the way.”

Ian laughs.

“Mandy keeps texting me to see how things are going,” he says.

“Ignore her,” Mickey says, and Ian laughs again, because they both know he won’t.

Suddenly the lights change and the music gets louder as the players come onto the ice. There’s a lot of booing and shit as the names of the Red Wings players are called, and Ian chuckles beside Mickey.

It doesn’t take long for the Blackhawks to score their first goal, and Ian jumps up and cheers. When he sits back down he looks a little embarrassed.

“I haven’t been to a game in a while,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s why I’m here,” Mickey teases. “I see what you’re up to, Gallgher.”

“You’ve found me out,” Ian says, struggling to keep a straight face. “I definitely had no other motivation for asking you out.”

Mickey tenses a little, but he manages not to look around them to check if anyone heard. He kind of wishes he did, though, so that he would’ve missed the disappointed look that crosses Ian’s face briefly.

“Sorry,” Mickey says, uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” Ian says, and he sounds like he means it, but he still looks a little unhappy.

Mickey knocks his knee against Ian’s, quickly, pulling it back into his own space afterwards, but Ian still smiles at him.

A little while later some guys on the ice get into a fight, throwing down their sticks and gloves and pulling at one another’s helmets. Mickey leans forward in his seat, laughing when one of the guys falls over.

“You sure you’re not a hockey fan?” Ian asks, amused.

“Maybe I am now,” Mickey says, slumping back into his seat when the refs manage to break up the fight.

Ian groans loudly when the Red Wings score right before the first period ends, and Mickey laughs at him.

“Shut up,” Ian says. “I’m gonna go get some popcorn. You want another beer or something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Mickey says.

Ian stares at him for a second, looking amused.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey says, and Ian laughs.

Mickey pulls out his phone again after Ian leaves, and there’s a text from Mandy.

_make anybody cry yet?_

_no asshole_ , Mickey sends back.

Mickey thinks Ian is having a good time, anyway. He seems relaxed, but it’s hard to tell how much of that is Ian trying to seem relaxed. At the very least, he doesn’t seem all perky and friendly the way he gets around his family or around Yev. It’s not blatant or totally insincere, but it seems more like the way he thinks he should be than the way he actually is. Here, teasing Mickey and distracted by the game, Ian doesn’t seem to be trying to be a certain way. At least, Mickey hopes he isn’t.  

Mickey startles when a couple of guys standing a few rows in front of him get into a fight.

It sounds like the Red Wings fan spilled beer on the Blackhawks fan, which may or may not be true and may or may not have been an accident, but Mickey’s more focused on the fact that they’re throwing punches, and then security is coming their way. Mickey sits low in his seat, trying to look like someone who doesn’t have FUCK U-UP tattooed on their knuckles as the security guards pull the guys down the steep arena steps.

Ian looks concerned when he finally gets back with a huge bag of popcorn.

“I heard there was a fight?”

“It wasn’t me,” Mickey says, and Ian laughs.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not bailing you out.”

“Sure you wouldn’t, Firecrotch,” Mickey says.

Ian elbows Mickey, and Mickey elbows him back, and a bunch of popcorn showers out of the bag and onto Ian’s lap.

“Great,” Ian says. “Thanks.”

He throws a couple of pieces of popcorn at Mickey, a stupidly smug look on his face, and Mickey jumps when the music blares as the second period starts. He looks away, feeling warm. Ian kicks Mickey’s foot with his own, but when Mickey looks over, Ian’s staring down at the ice, smiling.

Mickey kicks Ian back, and then leaves his foot there, nudged against Ian’s.

Everything is fine until the game ends, and the Blackhawks lose, and Ian groans and wilts back in his seat, his head knocking against Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey manages not to tense up or anything, but Ian moves away quickly, and Mickey tries not to feel disappointed, because it’s his own fault in the first place.

“Alright,” Ian says. “Let’s go.”

They don’t talk as they fight through the crowd out of the arena and back towards the L station.

“We’re going in the same direction for a bit, right?” Ian asks, and Mickey nods.

They head up the steps and find a bench to sit on while they wait for the train. The platform is crowded enough that no one can hear Ian when he leans over to talk lowly into Mickey’s ear, not touching him at all, just close enough that Mickey can feel warm breath on his neck.

“You wanna come back to my place?” he asks, and it sounds like he’s trying to be sexy, but there’s laughter threaded through his voice.

Mickey swallows, staring at the tracks.

“Isn’t your place full of little kids?” Mickey asks. “It’s a school night.”

Ian laughs loudly.

“You have no idea what kind of shit has gone down in that house in the middle of the night,” he says. “Or the middle of the day, for that matter.”

Mickey looks at the amused arch of Ian’s eyebrows, the way he’s angled toward Mickey but still giving him enough space, the way his cheeks and nose are pink from the cold.

“Okay,” Mickey says.

They wind up standing close together on the train, bumping into one another as they sway. At one point Mickey feels Ian’s hand near his hip and he flinches.

“Sorry,” Mickey says automatically.

He looks around. The train is crowded, and lots of people are pressed close together, and no one’s really looking at one another. He shifts so that his shoulder touches Ian’s chest and sees the edge of a wide smile out of the corner of his eye.

The streets of Ian’s neighborhood are dark and quiet as they walk along. When they get close to the Gallagher house, Ian grabs Mickey’s hand to pull him along, and Mickey lets him. Once they enter the house, though, Carl is sitting on the couch watching some crime show. Mickey pulls his hand away, even though Carl has to know why he’s there as he looks over the back of the couch, looking unimpressed as usual.

“I’ll get the earplugs,” he says, standing up and turning off the TV, and Mickey feels his face go hot.

Ian shoots Mickey a look that’s half sheepish and half amused before grabbing his hand to tug him up the stairs. He leads Mickey to a room halfway down the hallway that has a flimsy cloth accordion door instead of a real one, and it doesn’t even shut all the way behind them. Mickey squints at it.

“Sorry,” Ian says as he takes off his coat, but he doesn’t sound sorry.

Mickey tosses his coat and hat and gloves on top of Ian’s on the floor, and then he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. Ian’s kind of staring at him.

“Are you – is this weird?” Ian asks. “Are you uncomfortable?”

He looks concerned, and Mickey rubs at his neck. It’s actually making him more uncomfortable.

“None of them care, if that has you worried,” Ian says, serious and calm.

“I know,” Mickey says. “This is just – new for me.”

He feels his face go hot again and he winces.

“Okay,” Ian says easily. “We don’t have to do anything, you know. We can just hang out or whatever.”

“No, I want to,” Mickey starts to say.

“I know,” Ian says. “Me too. But that doesn’t mean we have to.”

Mickey looks at Ian, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking relaxed and open, absolutely no masks in place.

“No, I want to,” Mickey says again, and this time he’s definite.

Ian smiles, and he stands up, and he tilts his head a little and the tension is gone.

“If you want,” Ian says, smirking, “I can make sure that no one else will hear us. I can go and tell everyone to put in their earplugs so that we can have sex –”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey laughs, whacking Ian on the arm when he comes closer.

“Relax,” Ian urges, slowly placing a hand on either side of Mickey’s neck, cradling his head.

Mickey moves his hands to Ian’s hips as Ian kisses him, their noses bumping. Ian makes a little noise against Mickey’s mouth before pulling back.

“Come on,” he says, and then he’s pulling at Mickey’s shirt.

When they’re down to their boxers, Ian grins at Mickey before he grabs him around the waist and wrestles him down onto the bed. Mickey’s twisted half on his side, one of his arms pulled behind him weirdly, and Ian’s dick is pressed right against his hip.

“Stop fuckin’ around and get on me, Gallagher,” Mickey says, irritated because he can’t really move with the way Ian has him pinned.

Ian laughs and bites the lobe of his ear before he moves, letting Mickey shift onto his back but staying close, looming over him. Now that Mickey doesn’t have a fuckin’ crick in his neck, he doesn’t mind.

“What?” Mickey asks after a few seconds of Ian just staring at him.

“Nothing,” Ian says, but then he grinds against Mickey, who lets out a quiet, choked sound.

“Fuck off,” Mickey says as Ian grins down at him.

Mickey shoves his hand down the back of Ian’s boxers and grabs a handful of his ass. Ian laughs and shoves his tongue down Mickey’s throat. It doesn’t take long for the teasing shift of Ian’s hips, Mickey trapped underneath him, to turn into something more urgent.

Mickey reaches to push Ian’s boxers down as far as he can and Ian hums into his mouth. He tries to push his own down too but Ian drops his weight on top of Mickey again, his grin breaking the kiss.

“Douche,” Mickey says, whacking Ian on the thigh.

Ian snorts against Mickey’s cheek, which should be gross and not endearing, and lifts up so that Mickey can get his boxers out of the way. Mickey licks his palm, and Ian hisses when Mickey wraps his hand around both of them.

“I have lube, you asshole,” Ian grunts, moving away to pull off his boxers all the way and fumble in his nightstand.

When he comes back he pulls off Mickey’s boxers too and shifts to kneel between Mickey’s legs, uncapping the bottle and pouring some onto Mickey’s hand. He pulls Mickey up so that he’s straddling Ian’s thighs, their stomachs pressed together, which is a little awkward, but then Ian tosses the bottle of lube onto the bed and wraps one hand around Mickey’s waist to hold him in place, and he reaches down with lubed-up fingers to open Mickey up.

“Fuck,” Mickey says, louder than he means to.

Ian laughs, but it turns into a moan when Mickey wraps his hand around them both again. Mickey can’t get a lot of leverage in this position, can only shift back and forth a little, panting against Ian’s mouth. When Ian adds a third finger, Mickey huffs impatiently.

“Okay, come on,” he says, shoving until Ian moves and he can flop back down on the bed.

Ian picks up a condom and rips it open with his teeth, rolling it on mostly one-handed.

“Yeah, okay, make sure you tear it, asshole,” Mickey says, and Ian laughs.

“You ready?” Ian asks as he positions himself over Mickey, and when Mickey glares, he smiles and pushes in with one slow, drawn-out thrust.

“You’re such a dick,” Mickey grunts, fisting his hand in Ian’s hair and mashing their mouths together.

Ian moves against him slowly, one of his hands tight on Mickey’s thigh.

“Seriously, Gallagher?” Mickey asks after a couple more thrusts. “That all you got?”

Ian grins hugely, and Mickey has a moment where he thinks his fuckin’ life flashes before his eyes, and then Ian is pounding into him fast but deep, shifting his hand to wrap it around Mickey’s dick just a little too tightly. Mickey closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, trying to hold back the moan that’s building in his chest.

“How’s this working for you?” Ian asks, clearly struggling to sound nonchalant, and Mickey laughs, clapping a hand over his face.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst,” he says, and then Ian’s tongue is in his mouth again.

The shift in angle makes Mickey moan, and Ian thrusts harder, their noses bumping, and Mickey closes his eyes tightly when he comes, pressing his nose against Ian’s cheekbone. Ian thrusts a few more times, and when he comes, he leans down and shoves his face into Mickey’s shoulder. After a moment, Ian moves, pulling out of Mickey slowly and getting rid of the condom. He grabs a tissue and wipes halfassedly at Mickey’s stomach for a few seconds. Then Ian flops down on his side, leaning his head on his hand and smiling widely down at Mickey.

“I mean it,” Mickey says. “You’re the worst.”

“Okay,” Ian says agreeably, continuing to smile at Mickey.

“Stop,” Mickey says, putting his hand over Ian’s face and shoving a little.

Ian licks his hand.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey says, laughing a little as he turns away and buries his face in a pillow.

Out in the hallway, a door opens, and someone shuffles past, probably to go to the bathroom. Mickey tenses up a little, suddenly aware again that the fake door isn’t even closed properly.

“What time is it?” he asks.

Ian leans over the edge of the bed to find his phone.

“It’s nearly one,” he says, and Mickey groans and runs a hand over his face.

“I gotta work early tomorrow,” he says. “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Ian says, and suddenly he’s impossible to read, looking at the sheets rather than Mickey.

Mickey sits up.

“Yev said he wants to play catch tomorrow instead,” he says. “You up for that, Coach Gallagher?”

Ian chuckles.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Debs might come with me and Mandy tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Mickey says, and then he shoves at Ian’s legs until he can get past them.

They’re both quiet as he gets all of his clothes back on, Ian eventually moving to slip back into his boxers. When Mickey’s holding just his hat and gloves, he looks over at Ian, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring back.

“Uh,” Mickey says, and then Ian stands up and grabs his face in both hands and kisses him, hard and quick.

“Okay,” Mickey says.

He stares at Ian for a few more seconds, and then he turns and leaves, his stomach feeling funny.

When he gets out into the hallway, Debbie is coming out of the bathroom. They both freeze, wide-eyed.

“Uh,” Mickey says.

“Uh,” Debbie agrees, and then she runs to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Ian snorts loudly from the doorway of his room, and Mickey flips him off as he heads toward the stairs.

-

Mickey drinks most of a pot of coffee before work the next morning, and then spends his shift alternately dozing and twitching as he stares at the clock. When he checks his phone during his break, he has texts from Mandy.

_heard your date went well_

_heard debbie heard your date went well_

Mickey groans and doesn’t answer.

He’s not nervous about seeing Ian at the park later, except he kinda fuckin’ is. He wouldn’t be sure how to act around Ian now anyway – Mickey’s last non-casual hook-up was probably Angie Zago when he was seventeen, and that shouldn’t count for a variety of reasons – even if he wasn’t going to also be seeing his kid, his sister, and Ian’s sister. Ian’s not gonna try to hold his hand or whatever, but it’s still weird, and Mickey hasn’t talked to Yev yet about the fact that he and Ian went on an actual date.

He’s rude to customers all morning, and he forgets to pick up lunch on the way home. When Mandy shows up, she finds him sitting on the couch staring at the TV, which is off, his knee bouncing.

“Jesus,” she says. “You want half my sandwich? Make sure you take off the tomatoes.”

She sits down next to him and turns on the TV, waiting a couple minutes before she says anything else.

“Yev is gonna be excited.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey says with his mouth full.

Without saying anything, Mickey gets up and goes to pick up Yev from school way earlier than he needs to leave, because he can’t sit still anymore. He winds up leaning against a wall of the building for a while, and when the bell rings to signal that the day is over, he jumps.

Yev can tell that something is up as soon as he sees Mickey.

“You look funny,” he says, grabbing Mickey’s hand as they start to walk.

Mickey laughs, and he waits until they’re a block away from the school before he says anything.

“So you know how I went to the game with Ian last night?” he says, aiming for casual.

“Yeah,” Yev says. “Was it fun?”

“Sure,” Mickey says. “You know… you know that conversation we had the other day? After the planetarium?”

“Yeah,” Yev says again.

“What if, uh,” Mickey says, and then he stop. “How would you feel if –”

He takes a deep breath.

“Last night me and Ian went on a date,” he says. “Okay? Like Mama and Nika go on dates.”

“Like kissing and stuff?” Yev asks, squinting up at Mickey.

“Uh, yeah?” Mickey says uncertainly.

“But only Mama and Aunt Mandy do dates,” Yev says, looking suspicious.

“Well now I do too,” Mickey says, and then adds, “with Ian.”

“Okay,” Yev says after a second. “I like Ian more than Nika.”

“You only met Nika once,” Mickey says. “You liked her.”

“Ian is funner,” Yev insists, and Mickey shrugs, because he’s right.

Most of Mickey’s nerves are gone by the time they get home. He can actually see Mandy sag in relief when he walks in the door, and he wonders how shitty he must have looked this morning.

“Hey, Yev,” Mandy says, “is it cool if Debbie comes to the park today? Remember, Ian’s sister?”

“Okay,” Yev says. “Did you know Daddy kisses Ian?”

Mickey and Mandy stare at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“I did know that,” Mandy says after a second, sounding kind of strangled. “Ian told me this morning after class.”

Mickey looks away, feeling his face heat up.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Mandy says. “I cut him off pretty quickly.”

Mickey sits down next to Mandy on the couch as Yev takes off his coat and shoes and tosses them into his room.

“We should probably start looking for his shoes now if we want to get there on time,” Mandy says.

They do wind up getting to the park a couple of minutes late, and Mickey’s stomach feels funny the whole walk there. It’s pretty cold out now, but it hasn’t snowed yet, so as long as Yev wants to keep coming to the park, they’ll keep coming. The semester is about to end, but they’ll figure out a new schedule if they have to.

Ian and Debbie are sitting on the bench of their picnic table, looking at something on Ian’s phone, when they get there. Debbie turns pink when she looks up and sees Mickey before punching Ian on the arm.

“Hey,” Ian says when he looks up, smiling. “I brought my mitt. You excited?”

Yev nods as Ian pulls a ratty old mitt out of his backpack, and a baseball, too, probably a kids’ one. Mickey pulls Yev’s mitt out of his backpack and hands it over before going to put it down on the table.

“Hang on,” Ian says as he gets up. “You have a mitt too, right? Play with us.”

Ian nudges Yev a little.

“Yeah!” Yev says, and Mickey glares at Ian.

“You saw me last time,” Mickey says. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Don’t worry,” Ian says, smirking. “I can teach you.”

Mandy groans loudly as she sits down next to Debbie, and Mickey doesn’t know who to glare at first. Yev looks excited, though, so he huffs out a sigh and gets the mitt.

Ian starts off by kneeling down next to Yev and showing him all the proper positions and movements, like he did for football, but this time he touches Yev, shifting him into place, guiding his arm in the proper arc, tugging on his ear when he gets distracted and making him laugh.

It’s been two months since Yev clocked Ian on the head with a football, and things are completely fuckin’ different now. It feels like a joke, like Mickey’s going to wake up one morning and realize that he never came out to Yev after he fucked up, or that they never met Ian, or that they’re still stuck in Terry’s house. He has that last dream a lot.

Ian looks up at Mickey over Yev’s head and smiles, and Mickey looks away after a second and swallows hard. He barely knows this guy, Yev and Mandy barely know him too, and they’re all so wrapped up in him already, but it doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

Mickey looks up at Yev laughing as Ian helps him swing his arm, at Mandy taking a picture of them on her phone and telling Debbie a story about work.

It doesn’t feel like a bad thing at all.

“Hey, go stand over there?” Ian asks, and Mickey jumps a little, and then moves to where Ian is pointing.

Ian helps Yev throw the ball, and Mickey does his best to catch it and throw it back in a way that Yev might actually be able to catch with Ian’s help. They go back and forth for a bit, before Ian gets up and moves to a spot off to the side. Yev actually does a decent job of throwing on his own, and he definitely does a better job of catching when Ian’s the one throwing. Unfortunately Mickey is just as bad at catching when Ian is the one throwing to him.

Mickey misses a particularly hard throw of Ian’s and the ball bounces off of his shoulder.

“Asshole,” Mickey says as Ian laughs. “That’s probably gonna fuckin’ bruise.”

Ian looks like he wants to say something, but he presses his lips together, smirking. Mickey’s mostly relieved, but he’s also a little disappointed.

“Oh,” Debbie says suddenly, looking up from her phone. “Amy and Gemma want to hang out with Yev again. Vee said to give her your phone number so you can plan a playdate or something.”

Mickey looks over at Yev.

“That sound good to you?” he asks.

Yev nods, no hesitation.

“Kev also said you guys can come to the Christmas party at the Alibi next week,” Debbie adds.

“No shit?” Ian asks. “Kev always has a party at his bar for the regulars and for family.”

“Okay,” Mickey says. “Okay. Uh. Hopefully we can all get off of work for it.”

“Will there be cake?” Yev asks.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ian laughs.

“Hey, we should leave,” Debbie says. “I can’t be late. I need all the prep for finals I can get.”

“No,” Yev whines as Mickey tugs his mitt off and goes to put it away.

“Too bad,” Mickey says, slinging the backpack over his shoulder.

He hauls Yev up into his arms as Yev squirms in protest. Ian, Mandy and Debbie get their shit together, and then suddenly there’s some kind of tension in the air. Mickey’s not sure what it is for a second, and then he gets it.

Ian’s not really looking at him, but Mandy and Debbie are both glancing between Ian and Mickey like they’re waiting for something to happen.

Ian looks up at him suddenly, though, and Mickey knows that Ian’s not going to let it be uncomfortable.

“See you later,” he says easily, smiling at Mickey at then at Yev, and then everyone else is adding their good-byes and they’re all turning and walking away, and Mickey feels something funny happen in his stomach.

He looks down at Yev. Yev looks back at him.

“Fuck it,” Mickey says. “Ay, Gallagher!”

Mickey moves forward quickly as Ian turns around and they collide a little bit, Yev squished between their shoulders, and Mickey claps his free hand against the side of Ian’s stupid head and presses their mouths together, hard and brief.

“See you later,” Mickey says, tearing his eyes away from the smile spreading widely across Ian’s face.

When Mandy starts to cackle, he flips them off over his shoulder as he walks away.

He feels a little lightheaded, a little bit like he might puke, but then Yev shifts against his shoulder and he feels more grounded.

“Can Ian come over for movie night?” Yev asks. “He loves Finding Nemo.”

“I have work Friday nights, remember?” Mickey says.

“So?” Yev asks, and Mickey laughs.


End file.
